A Very Good Neighbor
by seditionary
Summary: Rita is a little bit of an ugly duckling, a lonely teen, but her new neighbor proves to be very interested in her. How was she to know he would become the most wanted man in Gotham? OC/Joker.
1. New Neighbor

Marguerite Ryan lived in a dumpy brownstone apartment with her single mother. Marguerite was 17, and her mother worked a lot of nights, leaving the lonely teen to fend for herself. One of their next door neighbors was Mr. Rensselear, a friendly 85 year old man who often provided a sympathetic ear and a snack when Rita came home from school and her mom was at work.

Rita was pretty and slim, but seemed determined to hide that fact with hair falling in her face and too-big, shapeless clothing. She was bright, but too quiet to be noticed in her classes. Her best friend, Lynne, was a glasses-wearing brainiac who tended to over-dramatize every minor challenge and annoyance that the two girls ever faced.

One day, Marguerite's mom told her that Mr. R had passed away. She watched sadly as his apartment was emptied and closed up. It remained vacant for several weeks—until the day that a moving van pulled up in front of their building. Rita, as her mom called her, watched out her bedroom window as furniture and boxes were delivered to the next-door apartment.

Rita peeked out her front door, hoping to glimpse whoever would be taking possession of the neighboring flat. She hoped it would be a family—someone with a teen her own age, or maybe a little kid that she could earn money by babysitting. But she didn't see anyone but the uniformed movers.

She could hear movement in the apartment over the next few days, but never saw anyone come or go; she asked her mom if she ever saw anyone on her way to and from work, but she said she didn't notice.

Rita decided she should introduce herself to the new tenant; she was shy, but her curiosity got the better of her, plus she thought whoever now lived there might like to know who lived next door. So, after school one day, she stopped at the door of 3-G and rapped. To her surprise the door swung open—apparently the latch hadn't caught. She said loudly "Hello?" She stepped just inside the door, and called again. No one answered. The living room was dark, and the furniture seemed to have been put down in haphazard fashion, with boxes still packed full scattered around the room.

Rita couldn't tell anything about the tenant by the few visible possessions; it occurred to her that whoever it was might be in the bedroom, or the bathroom. She tiptoed to the door of the bedroom—if he/she was there napping, she would just take a quick peek and run right out. But no one was on the bed; she stood listening intently—no sound came from the bathroom, either. She was just about to turn and leave, when she heard the front door open and someone walked in.

Her heart flew into her throat, and instinctively, she zipped into the bathroom, into the shower enclosure, and slid the door shut, cowering in hopes of not being discovered. She heard movement in the living room, and then footsteps heading into the bedroom. "Please don't come in here, please…"

The door opened. She tried to stay close to the wall, to blend in behind the translucent plastic door. She heard a man pee into the toilet, and a flush, and then—she thought she would faint—the shower door slid open.

Scars. The first thing she noticed was the scars. Deep and ragged, on each side of his mouth, plus an almost vertical indention in his full lower lip .A tall, slender young man with wavy blonde hair, handsome in spite of the ravaged skin. He stood, leaning against the shower stall, and said "Well, hello there." He was completely calm and casual, as if he was accustomed to finding strange teenage girls in his shower all the time.

"I…I'm sorry…I'm not supposed to be in here." Rita spouted out. "I'll just get out of here, now…" She moved to step out of the shower, but the man didn't move, just continued to stare at her with dark brown, piercing eyes.

"Find anything of interest?" he asked cheerfully.

"I…I didn't…I wasn't trying to snoop, I just wanted to meet…you. I just wanted to introduce myself."

"Ok…go ahead."

"My name is Marguerite—I live next door, with my mom. Uh, I used to know the man who lived here before, he died…"

"Yes. That makes sense that you would know him before he died," the man said thoughtfully, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"What? Oh, no, I meant…I'm really sorry, I should get out of your way."

The man finally stepped aside and let her get out of the stall; she was clumsy and caught her foot on the lip of the tub and almost fell, but a strong hand gripped her upper arm and held her while she steadied herself. She looked sideways at him, horribly embarrassed, but he just smiled encouragingly, and let her move past him. The area was tight enough that she had to brush against him, smelling the faint scent of his wool sport jacket and something else, sharp and citrus-y.

He followed her to the living room.

"Well, Marguerite, or may I call you Rita? Lovely Rita? It's been a pleasure. Maybe sometime you'll come by and give me a chance to actually open my door for you on purpose."

"Uh, sure, ok. I'll do that. Um, what's your name?"

"You can call me Jack." He grinned and she couldn't help but notice that the scars seemed to disappear when he smiled.

"Oh, no, I'm not allowed to call adults by their first names," she said seriously.

"Ah…well, then, call me Mr. J." he said accommodatingly.

She gratefully slipped past him. She shakily slunk out and over to her own apartment. She took a look behind her, and saw that he was standing just outside his door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, observing her departure with a wry smile on his scarred face. "Come back soon—_Rita_," he said as though he'd known her forever.

Rita wasn't sure what to do now that she had met her new neighbor. It certainly wasn't like having harmless Mr. Renssalear next door; just the brief moments she had spent in Jack's presence had made her acutely uncomfortable. He made her feel the way her older cousin did when he used to wrestle with her when their parents were drinking downstairs at his house in the suburbs. Not quite a bad feeling, but like they were doing something…wrong.

She couldn't stop thinking about the strange man—the way he looked, and the way he looked _at _her. His complete ease at finding a stranger in his home; his dry humor. The familiar way he used her name. She wanted to see him again, but she was afraid. Finally one afternoon she decided to bake cookies to pass the time. When she had a batch ready, she took a deep breath and took them next door, and knocked on Jack's door. She heard movement—and after a few moments, the door swung open. Jack stood there, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. "Well, hello again. You've been such a stranger, I thought perhaps I made a bad first impression. Was it the scars?" He leaned close to her, bringing his head down even with hers, and peering straight into her eyes. "I sometimes scare small children—but you're not a small child, are you?" he smiled.

"I'm, um, seventeen, I just had a birthday," she offered.

"Mmm. Well, Happy Birthday," he acknowledged. Then, "What have you got there?" indicating the plate in her hands.

"I thought you might like some cookies—I just made them."

"Of course, come in." He gestured to the interior of his home, and she stepped into his living room. The boxes were all gone and the furniture had been placed properly.

"Oh, you've got it all fixed up now…"

"Yeah, all nice and homey, isn't it?" He gently took the plate from her, placed it on the coffee table, and stepped into the kitchen. "Glass of milk?" he asked.

"Ok." She answered. He poured two glasses and brought them to the table.

They sat quite close together and each ate a cookie. He smiled at her and said between bites "Excellent cookie making skills. You have quite a future ahead of you."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she thought a moment, then asked "What do you do?"

"About what?" he asked in a serious voice.

"You know, for a living." It seemed strange that he would be home in the middle of the afternoon.

"I…work at home, sometimes. I'm, um, a _consultant_." He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips in an odd grin, and she felt a sudden sense of discomfort. Normal people didn't talk this way, certainly not to young girls.

She hastily finished her cookie, and stood up. "Well, I've got a ton of homework to do, so I better go. Enjoy the cookies. Oh, and thanks for the milk."

He stood up as well and stood much too close to her. "My pleasure. Listen, where's your mom? I never see her anymore."

"Oh, uh, she works a lot of nights. She's a nurse."

"Ah, I see. She's a nice looking woman. You take after her, don'tcha? Yeah. Same eyes, not that you can see 'em most of the time." He brushed her hair away from her face and for a shocking moment she thought he would kiss her, but he just ran his hand down the side of her face.

"Don't worry kid, it won't always be like this. You'll find your way, and you'll be…stunning." He smiled into her eyes and put his hands on her shoulders—she froze for a moment, but then realized he was trying to move her out of the way—slowly, like a dance move—so that he could open the door for her. Her legs felt like jelly nonetheless. Then she hastily ran out the door, and she thought she could hear him laughing from behind his closed door.

Jack sat back down on the couch and picked up another cookie, inspecting it as if it were a rare jewel. He was still laughing to himself at the look on the girl's face—like a scared rabbit facing down a wolf…and he slowly took another bite, savoring the sweet flavor, the crumbly texture, and went to ready himself for work.


	2. Help Me Out

A/N: **Sorry to take so long to update, it's tough getting computer time around here…anyway, hope you like, please review!!**

Rita was having a hard time concentrating in English class. It was her favorite class, but somehow thoughts of Mr. J. kept intruding on her concentration. He was so…_interesting._

So much more so than any of the boys in her classes, or even in the senior classes, although Robbie Maxwell was _so_ cute…and so beyond her…he'd never noticed her, not even that awful time that she was barreling around the corner after lunch and she ran smack into him and made him drop his books and sandwich. She had stammered out an apology, but he acted like she was some irritating bug that needed to be brushed off his shoulder, picked up his stuff and never looked back.

Mr. J. would never treat her like that. He seemed genuinely interested in her…and when he touched her cheek…she hadn't wanted to think about it, but now, a day away from that moment, she had to admit—she'd liked it. It was a little act of intimacy, and yes, maybe it was too much for an older man and a teenager, but it made her feel like he thought they were _friends,_ like he could tell her something meaningful instead of just making stupid small talk. _Condescending_ small talk, like what she got from most of her teachers, if and when they bothered to talk to you at all….

***

Rita thought over Mr. J.'s remark about her hair, and she finally asked her mom to leave her some money so she could get her hair cut. Her mom was _thrilled_; she had been after her to do something with her rather lank, brown locks for a long time, and was only too happy to come up with the cash for a decent style.

"Now, don't get it cut too short, but for God's sake, tell 'em to get it out of your eyes," her mother admonished.

"Ok, ok, don't worry, I'll get something cute…" Rita promised. She wasn't so sure that that would be the result, but it was something to aim for.

The haircut _was _cute…longish bangs she could do different things with, and layers that made her natural waves come to life around her slim face. Rita couldn't believe the difference as she stared at her reflection in the hair stylist's mirror. A big smile slowly crossed her lips; she wondered what Mr. J. would say.

She hurried home, and excitedly tapped on his door; but no one answered. Disappointed, she went home and called Lynne and got permission to go over to her house to show off her new 'do. Lynne was amazed, and also a little put out.

"Oh, great, now you're going to be little Miss Cutie-Pie and I'll still be dumpy old me," she whined.

"Oh, Lynne, for heaven's sake, you're not dumpy. But a new haircut wouldn't hurt you either, you know. If you want, I'll go with you and help you pick something out…"

"Forget it, Ritzy. I'm perfectly content with my lot in life. I thought you were too—what's gotten into you, lately, anyway?"

Rita didn't answer; she wasn't aware that _anything_ had gotten into her, at least to the point of anyone else noticing…she'd have to pay more attention to how she was acting.

***

Rita stopped at Mr. J.'s door every day that week, but he was never home. She was beginning to wonder if he had moved out overnight, when one afternoon she spied him pulling up in his big black sedan as she returned home from school. She hesitated; on the one hand, she was so nervous at seeing him she wanted to run up to her apartment and slam the door; on the other hand, she couldn't bear to go without at least saying hello to him, now that he was so close. She stayed rooted to her spot by the building's entrance.

Jack was carrying a bag of groceries. His eyes lit up when he saw her; a huge grin stole across his scarred face.

"Well, would you look at this…my little Margie…with a dynamite new haircut, waiting to open the door for me! It's my _lucky_ day….You look _gorgeous,_ beautiful, what are you trying to do, break my heart?" The wind was blowing his long blondish-brown hair around his face in a way that made him look wild and carefree.

Rita thought she would melt into the sidewalk; she rushed to open the door for him, and he flashed another smile at her in thanks.

"Listen, I've got a whole smorgasbord of junk food here, you want a snack?" he asked.

"Uh…ok, sure!" she answered just a tad hesitantly. Her knees felt a little weak.

"All right, come on over…" He propped the bag on one knee while he fished his keys out of his pocket.

"Where you been, Mr. J.?" Rita asked shyly.

"Oh, here and there. Say, did you hear about that explosion across town yesterday? Did they ever say what it was?" he asked, shooting her a look of curiosity as he turned the key in the lock.

"Uh…no, I guess I don't listen to the news enough," she replied. She made a mental note to start listening to the news.

"Umm, pity. I was wondering what it…was." He grinned cheerfully, and headed to the kitchen to unload his grocery bag.

"So, what goes with barbecue chips, white or red?" he mused thoughtfully, holding up first a can of lemon-lime and then a can of strawberry soda.

Rita snickered, and he scrunched up his face as he pondered the difficult decision.

"Well, if you have no opinion, we'll go with red." He handed her the soda can and opened the bag of chips, motioning for her to join him on the couch. He flicked on the TV to a news program, and after a bit, an article came on about the west-side explosion.

"…a storehouse of police munitions was blown up last night. Police investigators still have no leads as to the identity of the perpetrators, and no apparent motive…" intoned the reporter on the scene.

"Tsk, isn't that awful? What kind of a person would do something like that?" Mr. J. asked rhetorically as he munched.

"Yeah…that's, uh, bad." Rita wasn't sure what the significance of the explosion might possibly be, and she certainly couldn't imagine why her host cared one way or the other, but she was glad he thought she was mature enough to have the discussion with her.

"Hey! I just had a thought…" Mr. J. startled her by clapping his hand down on her thigh.

"How would you like to help me out with something?" His hand remained on her thigh, making her quiver.

"Uh…sure, Mr. J. What is it?"

"I've got a ton of stuff I need to take to the recycler's and a bum back; you want to ride over there with me and help me unload? I'll give you part of whatever cash I get for the materials."

She would probably not have sounded so much like a babbling idiot if he hadn't kept his warm hand on her leg; as it was, all she could come up with was "Uh, um, ok…"

"Great! That'll be a big help." He squeezed her thigh approvingly, leaving her in a jelly-like state. He stood up, found a pair of gloves, strode over to his closet and began pulling out boxes full of copper wire, steel cabling and various other metal pieces.

They toted several boxes down to his car, and she hopped into the passenger seat next to him.

"Gosh, Mr. J, what're you doing with all that stuff?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, I have a number of hobbies…electronics, mostly…that scrap just builds up after a while…." He aimed a charming smile at her. They drove to an area on the outskirts of town and pulled into the recycling center's parking area.

Jack pulled the boxes out of his trunk and Rita carried them to the weigh station table; she waited for the man to do his calculations. She looked back at the car and noticed Mr. J was already back in the driver's seat. She went over to him and leaned in the passenger window.

"Don't you want to hear how much money you're getting?" she asked curiously.

"Naw…listen, doll, you were such a big help to me, taking a load off when my poor back is killing me…you just sign the form and keep the money. I don't care how much they give, it's yours." His dark brown eyes were full of gratitude and sincerity.

"Well…I don't feel right about that…" she said uncertainly.

"Trust me, sweetie, I don't need the cash, and you earned it. Go ahead, the guy's ready…"

Rita went back to the attendant and, after signing her name, was given $50.00. She was amazed at the price scrap copper brought, and carefully put the money in her pocket.

"Gosh, Mr. J., he gave me fifty dollars!"

"Excellent…hey, listen, kid, you should spend that dough on some clothes for yourself."

"Really?"

"Yeah, doll—I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, your clothes…they don't fit ya! Too baggy…hard to tell there's a girl under all that fabric…" He waggled the front of her oversized sweat shirt and shook his head as though mystified by her wardrobe.

"Well…maybe I will."

"Sure…pick out some real feminine stuff, you know, stuff that shows off your figure…you'll have the boys at school going nuts for ya."

"Yeah…well, maybe..."

"Oh, yeah. You just need confidence…you gotta believe in yourself. Look at me! Here I am, looking like some kind of _freak_—these scars, you know—but do I let that stop me from doing what I want to do? NO! I just believe in myself, and I know I can do _anything._ Right, kid?"

"Right, Mr. J. You…you kind of inspire me…" she said in a shy voice.

He gave a small chuckle.

"Aw, you flatter me, Rita Mae! I'm just tellin' ya the truth. A gorgeous gal like you….Look, it's tough being your age—trust me, I was a mess at seventeen—but things _will_ get better. Maybe I can give you some…tips. You know, for handling high school boys and such. After all, I used to be one!"

"Wow, that'd be great, Mr. J.! I'd really like that!" Rita suddenly felt a surge of optimism; maybe her junior year of high school wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

Jack grinned to himself. This Henry Higgins thing was taking a lot of time. But he had a feeling it was going to be worth it. _Very_ worth it.

Oh, yeah.


	3. Lipstick

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers, and thank you so much for all the reviews and suggestions! I'm pretty new at this, so I really appreciate your feedback! Keep it comin'!**

**Seditionary**

Rita commandeered Lynne away from her beloved English homework and made her go with her to clothes-shop. They went to a nearby discount store, and Rita sheepishly gathered a pile of clingy t-shirts and girly sweaters to take into the fitting room. Her fifty dollars bought some of each, plus a pair of jeans that actually fit her slim figure.

As she modeled her choices, Lynne shook her head in amazement.

"God, Rita, nobody's going to recognize you anymore."

"Fine with me! I'd love to start over as a complete stranger."

"Yeah—but it's not enough justlooking different. You have to learn to _act_ different, too. And…."

"What?"

"I don't _want_ you to become a stranger. I like you the way you are."

"Awww….Come on, Lynne, I'm not going to change. I just want to have a little more fun than I've been having. I'd like to have a boyfriend, you know? Go on dates, stuff like that. What about you, don't you care about that kind of thing at all?"

"Sure, but I'm saving all that stuff for college. I'm going out of state and I really will start over then. I'm going to get contacts, dye my hair, new clothes, the whole nine yards…."

Rita giggled.

"You could do that _now_, silly!"

"I know, but it would be wasted on the unwashed masses of Gotham High! Which is kind of why I don't get _you_—who're you trying to impress, anyway?"

Rita considered; then she just shrugged. She hadn't mentioned Mr. J. to Lynne because…well, she didn't know why, exactly. Partly because of him being older. Lynne had a tendency to think the worst of everyone; Rita could just see her cutting out newspaper articles about stalkers and perverts and serial killers, and then she'd start giving Rita the third degree about his every move….

And…it was also because… Mr. J. was _hers._ Her secret. And she wasn't ready to share him with anyone, yet. Not even her best friend.

***

The second bedroom in Jack's apartment was used as his office/communications room. He kept all sorts of equipment in there, including a police scanner, short-wave radio, and cell phones for various purposes. The next job was going to be a doozy. It was going to take careful planning and…._aw, shit, the goddamn doorbell again…what now...?_

Sighing in irritation, he checked the surveillance camera that was trained on his apartment's entrance and saw young Rita standing there. _Ah, my latest project_….A welcome enough distraction, he supposed. _Ummm, and she appears to have gone shopping!…Very nice._ He nodded to himself in approval.

Rita was wearing a clingy red and white wide-striped sweater with a lacy V-neck, and new, rather tight-fitting jeans.

Jack opened the door, and a deep chuckle came from low in his throat as he looked Rita up and down, coming out in the hall to circle her like a feral cat examining its prey. Outwardly, she shrank into herself a little due to such laser-eyed scrutiny, but in her heart, she was deliciously thrilled.

He gave a long, low wolf whistle.

"Oh, _bay_-by, let me up, I've had enough!!…Miss Rita, you have _outdone _yourself…You're lookin' good enough to _eat! _Oughta be damn _illegal_ to look this good! Come in, come in, let's get some light on the subject…"

Rita dissolved into giggles. She couldn't help but whirl around to let him review the entire package again. He clamped one strong hand onto her shoulder and guided her into his apartment.

Once inside, he again looked her up and down and shook his head in naked admiration.

"Well, I bet you've got the overtaking of Gotham High _well_ underway…I hope you didn't trip over any of the boys that threw themselves at ya! Say, how many marriage proposals have you turned down today?" Laughing, he headed over to a cabinet and brought out a camera.

"Aw, Mr. J, _none!_ But I did notice a lot of people looking at me for the first time; usually, I just go through the day without anyone noticing me at _all_…." It had been rather exhilarating to stride by Robbie Maxwell's group and have them stop talking for a minute…

"Yeah? Well, I'm going to document this moment for posterity. Come over here." He gestured to his living room window where the afternoon sun was streaming in…she shyly stood in the light and smiled awkwardly at him.

"Oh, no, no, no—no _smiles!_ A drop-dead gorgeous babe like you doesn't haveto smile! Let 'em wonder what you're thinking…here, let's see what we can do with that neckline…"

He put the camera on the table and in an instant was standing directly in front of her, gently pushing the clingy fabric farther down her shoulders, exposing more of her creamy white bosom. His dark eyes were on her face, a studious half-smile on his lips, and his hands were warm and sure. She shivered as he lightly grazed her neck with his fingertips.

"Is it cold in here?" he asked, concerned.

"No, it's just…" abruptly, she shut up. He was making her feel like a walking piece of Jello, again.

"Hey, do you have any lipstick?" he asked.

"Uh…no…but my mom does."

"Well, run get some, ok?"

"Ok…" She returned momentarily with a few tubes. Jack assessed the different shades by opening them and holding them next to her face. He picked a deep rose color, took her chin firmly in his left hand, and began expertly applying the color to her lips.

"There. You don't usually need this crap, but for the photo, I think it'll kick ass."

He motioned her into the light.

"Ok, just look out the window…here, put your hand on your hip, like this…" He took her cold hand and placed it just so, on her hip.

"Now, kind of throw your shoulders back, and act like you don't give a damn."

She cracked up giggling, and he laughed too.

"Come on, now, this is serious! This'll be the Vogue shot…cover girl, baby! Now, hold still!" He captured the shot, and lowered the camera.

"Aw, beautiful! Come 'ere, look at yourself!" She came over to him and he slipped his arms over her shoulders from behind, holding the digital camera so they both could see the image. For a brief moment he rested his chin on her head while he punched the correct buttons, and she couldn't help but lean back against him. It was a heady moment and she barely registered that she was supposed to be looking at her own photo until the image actually appeared on the small screen.

She was beautiful.

He had captured an image of herself she couldn't have imagined in a million years—disdainful, aloof, almost scornful, but fetchingly attractive in a sophisticated way. She was startled—and thrilled.

"I really look…like that?" she gasped.

"You really do…whaddya think I've been telling ya, Killer? You're on the road to the big time, no mistake about it." He had released her from his hold, and was regarding her critically.

"How about a couple of more shots? Let's get 'em while the light's so nice."

He came over to her and using his hands to guide her body into the proper pose, had her put one hand on the wall, jut out her hip and give a backward glare over her shoulder.

"Yeah…that one really shows off those jeans. Good choice, by the way…"

They reviewed that shot, then he took a few more, making her laugh so that she appeared more relaxed and "candid" than in the posed shots.

Finally, Rita remembered the time.

"Oh, Mr. J, I've gotta go. My mom's getting home early this evening and I wanted to make dinner for her…"

"Aww, that's sweet. Great idea, kid, she'll love that. Whatcha gonna make?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, just spaghetti. I'm not much of a cook."

"Well, you come over sometime and lemme show you a couple of things in the kitchen—us old bachelors have to learn to fend for ourselves, you know!" He grinned at her and she fervently wished she could stay and let him show her a couple of things right now….

"Why _are_ you still a bachelor, Mr. J?" she asked, suddenly curious. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder before. God knows he was gorgeous enough to have women all over him….

"Oh, you know, just haven't met the…right lady, yet. I'm sure she's out there, but you _know,_ kid,"—his voice dropped to a low purr, and his eyes twinkled as he gave her a knowing wink—"by the time _you're_ through with me, _no one's_ gonna be good enough…right?"

She laughed a little, clearly embarrassed. Why did he have to say things like that? She could never think of the right response.

"Uh, sure, Mr. J, if you say so…"

_Uh-oh, kid definitely sounds nervous…time to pull back a little._

He laughed, letting her know he was teasing her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, don't pay attention to my bullshit! You know I'm just pulling your leg. Damn, Rita, you're just so much fun to mess with…"

Suddenly, he knit his brow and looked worried.

"Look, I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable." His voice had become a warm mix of concern and sincere regret, and she quickly tried to reassure him.

"No, it's ok, Mr. J! I'm fine…I just…I just don't know how to act around you, sometimes. I wish I could be more like you…not take things so seriously…but, it's kind of hard for me…."

"Hey." He suddenly pulled her into a hug. "Hey, listen. You're just fine the way you are. I just like to…you know, joke around. A little too much sometimes. Ok?"

She melted into the hug, and squeezed him back. His slim frame felt amazingly solid and strong….his scent was of the outdoors, his wool blazer, and a sharp, spicy fragrance. She could have stayed like that forever, but he broke the clench and smiled down at her.

"You better go get dinner started, or Mom'll wonder what you've been up to…" he said chidingly.

"Yeah…I better go. See ya, Mr. J."

"See ya, Rita Mae."

He watched intently as she slipped through his door. When it shut behind her, Jack threw himself on the couch and reviewed the afternoon. Things were coming along nicely. The hug might have been a bit much, but….naw, it was actually just right. He hadn't grabbed her ass, or anything. And, damn, the kid's hair smelled nice, up close like that.

Oh, and the lipstick bit…ha ha, he coulda loaned her his, but it definitely wasn't the right…shade. A little…too…_red._ He smiled to himself, and absently fingered his scars with one hand as reached for the camera with the other. He then ran back and forth through the shots of Rita.

And then he took care of a little problem that had developed.

In his pants.


	4. Extra Credit

**A/N: I am SO SORRY to take so long to update! Hopefully, this will make up for it…things are about to heat up a little between Mr. J and Rita! Thank you to everyone for reviewing, I love you all!!**

Rita was heading out of class alone, her head down, clutching her books and notebook to her chest. She had braved the whole day, trying to capitalize on her new appearance by smiling more and being more outgoing, but it was difficult. She had stupidly volunteered to work a problem on the board in her calculus class—she really did know the answer—but once she got up there, she froze. She got confused and ended up flubbing the whole thing, resulting in a humiliating round of laughter from the class. Of which, of course, Robbie Maxwell was one.

She sighed. Mr. J. knew how to bring out the best in her. But here, here at the soul-destroying pit of hell known as North Gotham High, she felt herself slipping back into obscurity. It was hard to remember his words when everyone around her was more confident, more popular, more…everything.

Still…she looked to her right as she crossed the school grounds, taking a short cut toward home. She saw Robbie himself, the long, lanky basketball star, shooting hoops with a couple of his buddies. She paused, then pursed her lips in determination.

She had to quit being such a weenie. _So what if he utterly rejects me? _she thought_._ Rita knew he had taken notice of her; at lunch, she was aware of his eyes on her as she walked by his table on her way to the food line. What was it Mr. J had said? Oh, yeah…_ "Oughta be illegal to look like that…." _Dammit, if she could impress a sophisticated man like him, she should be able to get a reaction out of a schoolboy like _Robbie…_.

Rita raised her head and strode purposefully to the small set of bleachers that faced the basketball court. She climbed to the third row, perched on the edge of the bench, and began sorting through her notebook papers, carefully ignoring the action out on the court.

Momentarily, Robbie Maxwell's pals headed out, and Robbie himself started to leave; but at the last minute, he turned and walked over to Rita.

"Hey, uh…Marguerite, is it? Listen, I felt for you in calculus today. That really sucked."

Rita looked at him, her heart pounding, but she maintained a cool tone of voice.

"Oh, yeah…I really screwed that up. Oh, well, so much for getting extra credit out of Mr. Sinclair."

"Extra credit, yeah…_I _could use some of that. Um…you usually make pretty good grades in his class, don't you?" Robbie eased himself up to the second bench, his short dark hair tousled, his clear green eyes looking up at her.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Robbie nodded.

"Well…I was thinking…maybe you could help me study for that test on Friday…you know, like tutoring or something? Uh…I could take you for a burger and we could go back to my place…maybe you could explain some of that stuff to me so I could at least pass the class. My dad'll kill me if I get kicked off the team."

Rita felt a little rush that momentarily clouded her vision. She shook it off, took a deep breath, and made herself answer casually, "Sure, Robbie. That'd be great. When?"

"No time like the present. How about I pick you up around seven tonight?"

"O…K…um…you know where I live?"

"Give me your address."

Rita did so, and they said goodbye. Rita walked with measured steps until she was sure she was out of Robbie's sight, then she broke into a run for home.

***

Jack was shaking his head over a number of cryptic e-mails he had intercepted between one of his contacts and the mob guy he now had in his employ. Something odd was going on, and he didn't like it. _Not one bit_….He absently flipped a dagger in the air, artfully catching it by the handle. _Fuckers._ He couldn't afford a traitor in his organization…well, time enough to deal with that later.

A timid knock on the door told him Rita was stopping by. An eyebrow shot up and a pleased smile crept across his face. _Ah, my little Margie…let's see what's on the cutie-pie agenda for today…._

Whistling tunelessly, Jack locked his office, and stepped over to his front door. He playfully opened it only a few inches and peered with exaggerated caution out into the hallway. Rita stared at him in bewilderment, but he instantly dissolved into laughter at her expression, letting her know he was playing with her, as usual.

"Ok, I guess it's safe to let you in," he said, chuckling. "Ya know, kid, I have to watch out for those baby blues of yours, you're gonna knock me stone-cold dead someday." He winked at her teasingly as he swung open his door.

Rita giggled, and happily entered his apartment.

"Guess what, Mr. J!" she said breathlessly.

"What?" he asked, in mock apprehension.

"I've got a date!" she revealed excitedly.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well, kind of, I mean, I guess it's not exactly a _date_, it's more of a tutoring session, but Robbie Maxwell—did I tell you about Robbie? He's really cute—he wants me to help him study for the calculus test this Friday, and he's going to take me out for dinner first, and I _think _he kind of likes me, at least, I know he noticed me at lunch, and then he came and talked to me after school, and now he's going to pick me up at 7:00!" Her words came tumbling out in one stream-of-consciousness flow, and Jack stared at her in deep amusement, waiting for the flow to ebb.

"Now, hold on just a minute." He crossed his arms, knit his brows, and curled up his lip in displeasure.

"You mean to tell me this…this _joker…_asked you out for tonight on the _same day_? What are you, running an escort service? That's complete bullshit, sugar, you don't let him treat you like that! I bet his parents won't even be home, and let me tell you something, he wants a lot more from you than 'tutoring'. You gonna give it to him?" He gestured at her with his index finger.

"Uh…what do you mean, Mr. J?" Rita was deflated by Jack's disapproval.

"I mean, he wants to get in your pants! Geeeze!! A guy doesn't set up a deal like that if he respects the girl…no, he's not thinking about passing a test, not a _calculus _test, anyway…" Jack shook his head regretfully, and went to sit on the couch. Rita followed.

"Well…so you don't think I should go?" Rita asked uncertainly.

"That's up to you, babe…but don't fool yourself. Know what you're getting into. Hell, fuck the guy's brains out if you _want _to, but don't go over there thinking he's some sweet little boyfriend, planning to bring you flowers and a promise ring. He wants _sex_. Know that. Be prepared. And, if you don't want to do it, have an escape route planned. Oh, and don't _drink_ anything while you're there." Jack absently flipped on the TV with the remote.

Rita's mind was reeling from Jack's crude language, and even more so from his blunt assessment of her upcoming evening. It took her a while before she was able to articulate a sentence.

"Mr. J, I—I don't think Robbie would…spike my drink…" Rita would have had no clue about ruffies if it weren't for Lynne's vigilance in regularly reporting magazine articles on date rape to her.

Jack laughed a bit sheepishly. "Ok, maybe I'm being a little…_over-dramatic_. But I'm just saying this because I care about you, babe….Look, this is a teenage boy. They're _horny_. You're adorable. Figure it out." He turned to look at her, emphasizing his point by taking her jaw in his hand and scrutinizing her pretty face. His fingers were warm and strong, but gentle, and she found herself staring into the mesmerizing power of his brown eyes, forgetting what in the world they were talking about so excitedly…oh, yeah, Robbie….

"Ok, Mr. J. I guess I didn't look at it like that. I'll be careful," she assured him.

"Yeah, just pay attention, that's all. Do what you want, but don't be a sucker. That's all I'm sayin'." Suddenly, he broke into a dazzling smile and said cheerfully, "Aw, you'll be all right, kid. You're tough, right? I shouldn't worry, huh? I tell you what, if he gives you any shit, you tell him Mr. J'll come and get 'im. And…I _will._ I…definitely…_will_." His smile faded, and something flashed across his face, giving Rita a chill. But, it passed in an instant and then his easy smile was back.

Suddenly, still holding her face in his hand, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He sat back and looked at her, his eyes crinkled in a fond expression.

"Pretty little Margie…see, I told you! You just need to believe in yourself, and those damn boys'll be flocking to your door…but, you better be ready. You better…be prepared." His voice now had a hypnotic quality, deep and rich. He nodded in emphasis.

Rita couldn't help herself—she leaned forward, and shyly touched her mouth to his scarred lips. He released her chin, and slipped his hand onto the back of her neck, effectively locking her in position. He tipped his head slightly to the side and pressed his lips firmly against her soft mouth, just for a moment. Then he pulled back, released her, and looked at her worriedly. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he said in a low, troubled voice.

"No, it's ok, Mr. J! It was me…I wanted to…I'm the one that's sorry, I better go…" Rita hastily stood up and, feeling like she wanted to cry, turned toward the door. What the hell was she thinking? What was it about this man that made her brain spark and blow out like a faulty switch on a cheap appliance?

"Rita…wait." Jack felt like a fisherman playing a rainbow trout.

He went over to her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her, nothing subtle about it this time, his warm, moist lips sliding smoothly over hers, encouraging her to part them so he could slip his tongue into her previously unexplored mouth. She flinched, tried to pull away—it was a strange and unsettling sensation, and it made her stomach do flips—but he held her too tightly against his lean, wiry body for her to squirm out of his secure grasp.

Then she understood that she didn't want to. Rita closed her eyes and quit resisting. She let him run his tongue around the inside of her mouth, and realized that she was quickly getting used to the feel of him, that she very much _liked_ what he was doing. His slid his tongue into the area between her lips and gums, onto her own tongue, the insides of her cheeks. That sent a powerful jolt through her slight frame, starting between her legs, electricity emanating along her limbs to the tips of her fingers and toes.

He slid his hand down over her back to her round bottom, and pressed her hips against his. The heat from the closeness of their bodies shocked her even as it intrigued her, and the scent of him—warm, male, spicy—was an intoxicant in itself. Suddenly, it occurred to her that the hard length she was feeling against her belly was his erection….

Just as Rita gave a shudder of yearning, he stopped exploring with his tongue and gave her several full, deep kisses, just his mouth on hers. Jack finished the overture by gently skimming her lower lip between his teeth, followed by tenderly pressing his lips to her nose, forehead, and cheeks.

He stopped, and looked down at her, half-smiling, and she found herself swimming in the depths of his dark eyes. For the first time, she really noticed the full ravages of the ragged scars on his cheeks, and she dreamily wondered what it would feel like to touch them….

"Why don't you call Robbie Maxwell…and tell him to go fuck himself?" Jack inquired gently.


	5. Sexy Temptress

**A/N: I hope everyone has a good holiday!! **

"…_tell Robbie Maxwell to go fuck himself…"_

Jack's startling words brought Rita out of her kissing-induced trance, and, foggily coming back to reality, she looked around Mr. J's darkening apartment and realized that time had actually passed. It was getting late and Robbie would be coming by to pick her up soon. Being in Mr. J's arms felt so _good,_ though…they were locked around her like steel. Even at that, she sensed he was giving her a choice. She searched her soul, placed her hands firmly on his chest and shyly looked up at him. She licked her lips—she could still feel his touch on them—and said regretfully:

"Mr. J…I really need to go. I told Robbie I'd be ready at seven…."

Jack smiled down at her, his mouth slowly widening in what started as a silent, wheezing chuckle that graduated to a full blown seizure of laughter. He released her, gracefully fell back against the wall and started to sink to his knees, as if the hilarity of the situation had weakened him so he couldn't stay on his feet.

"Ah, Miss Rita…" he gasped between chortles, "That deer in the headlights look! You're such a _sweet _little baby_._ Aw, jeeze, I have GOT to get myself a _girlfriend_…" He finally shook his head like a dog throwing off water, and pulled himself up to his full height. He turned to face her apologetically, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Look, Rita, you know this was totally, um, inappropriate behavior on my part, right?" His voice was gradually coming back into control and his face now bore an earnest expression of sincerity.

"You'll have to forgive me, I just got…overcome. Don't know what I was thinking. Are you ok?"

"Sure, Mr. J…I'm all right. That was just…kinda weird, you know? But…_nice_." Rita didn't know what to say. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she definitely felt something disturbing had happened, no matter how much she had liked it.

"No, no, no, _no_. It was…_wrong,_" Jack said firmly. "And, I'm _sorry._ I'm the adult, and I wasn't lookin' out for my little pal like I shoulda. But, I told ya, kid, you're dangerous! You think I wanna land my ass in jail over a little kiss? Nope, I gotta stay away from a sexy temptress like you. You need to go play with your new boyfriend, leave _me_ alone!" He was holding his hands in front of himself, defensively, as though attempting to fend off her invisible advances. He grinned sheepishly at her, waiting to see what she'd do.

Rita laughed, relieved. She found it hard to admit, but she had been a little…scared. But, here was her old Mr. J, he'd just been teasing her, as usual. It was going to be ok.

"Yeah, I guess. I really like you, Mr. J, I don't want to cause you any trouble."

Jack nearly started laughing hysterically again. _Fuck,_ this was killing him, it was too easy….

"Oh, goodness, you're no…trouble, sweetie. Look, you run along…have a good time. Let me know how it goes, ok? Remember what I told you…pay _attention._ Good advice, huh? I oughta follow it, myself…" he said, his voice dropping, halfway to himself.

"Sure, Mr. J. I'll be careful. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" She hastily slipped out to the hallway.

He nodded, smiling, and shut the door firmly behind her. He chuckled to himself as he headed back to his office. He really had to quit amusing himself like this; he had _work_ to do….

***

Robbie Maxwell pulled up in front of Rita's building and honked his horn repeatedly until Rita stuck her head out of her third floor window. He waved, indicating she should come on down. That irritated her a bit. Wouldn't the polite thing be for him to come up and escort her to his car? Oh well. She waved back, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.

Robbie took her to a nearby casual restaurant and bought her dinner. They chatted amiably about the trials and tribulations he was having with his car, his job, and calculus. He then turned his attention to analyzing his team, how they were doing in the playoffs, what a great set up he had carried out at the last game, how much he hated the new uniforms, but how much loved his coach, etc. Rita listened, initially interested, but found her mind wandering. It was hard not to think about how Mr. J's tongue had felt between her lips…realizing Robbie had actually asked her a question, she shook out of her reverie, and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said, have you made it to any of the games this season?"

"Oh! No, not yet. I've been kind of busy…"

"Well, you'll have to make the next one. We're up against West Gotham, and those guys are killer…but we'll take 'em, I've got some ideas…" Robbie launched into another explanation of his basketball court strategy, and Rita nodded, appearing to be fascinated, but in reality, she was wondering what Mr. J would think of this conversation. He'd probably be faking interest, all the while asking Robbie inane questions designed to show him for the narcissistic ego maniac it was becoming clear that he was…Rita grinned at the thought. Mr. J didn't suffer fools gladly.

It was a good thing Robbie was cute.

After dinner, Robbie drove them to his house. As Rita got out of his car, she noticed it was the only one in the driveway.

"Are your folks at home tonight, Robbie?"

"Naw, they're out of town. My dad's got a medical conference or some damn thing. It's just you and me tonight!" Uh-oh, she thought. Plan an escape route…

Robbie led Rita into the large house, upstairs to his room. It was a typical teenage boy's bedroom, with sports posters, car memorabilia, and pictures of a bikini-clad Mara Simpson all over his dresser. Rita stared at the photos. She knew Mara; she was a snotty rich girl that had often made fun of Rita in middle school.

"Do you and Mara…go out?" she asked.

"Used to…we kind of broke up." Robbie shrugged, and indicated his desk.

"I guess we can work over here…or maybe it would be more comfortable here?" he pointed to his bed.

"The desk is just fine. Do you have another chair?" Rita was firm.

Robbie went to get one, and Rita looked more closely at Robbie's room. He definitely wasn't a neat-freak, that was for sure…

Robbie gamely attempted to follow Rita's explanations of different math concepts and they worked for about half an hour before Robbie's attention span gave up the ghost.

"Damn, Rita, this stuff is boring. Let's take a break, ok? I'll bring up some refreshments…"

Robbie returned with a couple of beers.

"Oh, Robbie, I don't drink," Rita stated.

"You're kidding! It's just a beer! Come on, it'll help you relax. You really are wound up tight, you know that?"

"Robbie, I don't want a beer. I came here to help you, and that's what I intend to do."

"Help me, huh? Well, I like the sound of _that._" Robbie took Rita's arm and led her to the bed. He pulled her down next to him, laughing a bit nervously.

"Come on, honey, let's get to know each other a little better." Robbie pushed Rita down on the bed, and started kissing her. Rita's thoughts were coming fast at each other, to the point of colliding in a mass of confusion. If it had been a month ago, a week ago, even a day ago—she wouldn't have been able to put them in order. But suddenly, Rita had a clear picture of what was happening. And what she wanted to have happen. And of one thing, she was unquestionably certain.

Robbie Maxwell was a bad kisser.


	6. No Excuse for You

_**A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you had a wonderful holiday and will have a great New Year. Let's hope Heath gets the Oscar! Here's the new chapter, let me know what you think, I love to hear from you!!**_

_**Seditionary ; )**_

_Rita resolutely submitted to Robbie's overly-aggressive, wet kisses, waiting for something to stir inside herself. Desire? Excitement? Pleasure? No, that was __not_ happening. What she was feeling was...boredom. Revulsion. Irritation...what the heck did she think she was doing?

Rita made up her mind--this was a thoroughly bad idea. Yes, Robbie was cute. Yes, he was a sought-after big shot at school. And, yes, Rita was tired of being an unnoticed and unpopular nobody. But, this...this wasn't what she wanted.

Would shedding her virginity bring her the confidence she lacked? Would getting Robbie's attention bring her the kind of recognition she craved? She suspected the answer to both questions was a big, fat "no".

She suddenly noticed that Robbie's hand, which had been slowly wandering around just under her right breast for a few minutes, had finally slipped higher, and she flinched when he gave her soft breast a hard, unpleasant squeeze; Rita firmly pushed his hand away. Damn thing came right back, and they had a little wrestling match in which she attempted to wriggle out from under him while he insistently maintained his overly-moist contact with her lips.

Mr. J had advised her to "do what she wanted", and this--giving in to Robbie's clumsy and insensitive attempts at seduction--was definitely _not_ it.

She was just about to try to gracefully extricate herself from his grasp, to gently explain that she had to go home without hurting his feelings, when he nastily slid his hand under her skirt, between her legs, and began to aggressively fondle her private area through her panties.

"Umm, baby, you're wet..." he murmured, pleased.

"Ok, that's _it_," Rita announced. She forcefully twisted out of his embrace and swung her legs over the side of the bed, launching herself upright onto her feet.

"Hey! Get back over here! What the hell's the matter with you, are you one of those _lesbians_? " Robbie angrily spat the words as he grabbed for her arm.

"No, no such excuse for you, Robbie! You're just a jerk, and I'm getting out of here. Let go of my arm!"

"Listen, you've been panting after me for weeks, just asking for it, don't act all high and mighty _now. _Come back here, and I'll give you what you've been asking for..." Robbie's grip on her arm was becoming painful, and he was now attempting to drag her back onto the bed.

"Robbie, NO! Let me go, right now!"

By this time Robbie had risen to his feet as well and was trying to take hold of her other arm. He was forcing his knee between her legs, in an attempt to break her stance and force her down onto the bed again.

In one split second, Rita grabbed the unopened beer bottle she had left on the nightstand and raised it threateningly over her head.

"Stop it, Robbie! Or I'll break this over your head, I swear I will!" Rita was blindly furious, now.

Robbie stared at the bottle, glanced at Rita's face, and instantly released her. He had never come this close to such raw ferocity in a girl before, and he had no doubt she would carry through with her threat if he didn't back off. And Robbie didn't like pain.

"What the _hell, _you crazy bitch! Fine, get the hell out of here, see if I ever give you the time of day again...."

Still brandishing the beer bottle, Rita hastily grabbed her bag and stormed through his bedroom door, letting it noisily slam shut behind her. She trod angrily down the stairs, and was out the front door before it occurred to her that Robbie had driven her to his house and she was not only too far from home to walk, but she wasn't even sure where, exactly, his upscale neighborhood _was._

Numbly, Rita walked until she got to a convenience store and went in to use the phone. She had only a little bit of change on her, and she hated to disturb her mom at work if she could possibly avoid it, so she called Lynne--not that she had either a driver's license or a car of her own, but she would ask if her mom could come pick her up. No answer.

Rita sighed. She dug in her bag and found the scrap of paper on which she had once jotted down Mr. J's phone number. He had told her to call if she ever needed anything. Well....

Jack's cell phone rang, the one he used for "regular" phone calls. He didn't recognize the number, but Rita was out on her date...hmmm. Interesting....with an anticipatory grin, he punched the "talk" key.

"Hel_lo_?" he answered curiously.

"Mr. J? It's Rita..." Her voice sounded shaky.

"Ah, the little Margarita person! I thought this might be you. What's up, sweetie?"

"Mr. J, could you come pick me up?" Suddenly, just hearing Mr. J's warm, welcoming voice made a sob rise to her throat.

"Robbie and I...we had a fight, and I walked out. I don't have any way to get home, and I don't want to bother my mom...."

"Aw, peaches! That's rough, listen, where are you?" She gave him the address of the convenience store, and Jack's lips twisted into an amused grimace. "_Park Lane?_ What is this guy, Richie Rich? Maybe you better make up with him, kid, sounds like the family's got some big bucks..."

"Oh, Mr. J, please just come and get me! Robbie's a _creep_...." Her voice was dissolving into serious tears, and Jack was torn between a chuckle and a note of genuine concern.

"Ok, angel, ok. I'll be right there. Sit tight."

Shaking his head, Jack pulled on a coat, slipped a knife in his pocket, and, whistling, ambled downstairs to his car. He was headed for the classy side of town.

* * *

Rita gratefully hopped into Mr. J's car, and began fumbling with the seat belt. She had been standing outside, not wanting the convenience store patrons to notice her distress, and the fall of night had brought with it a damp, chilly wind. She was now cold as well as miserable, and the warmth and familiarity of Mr. J's sedan soothed her immediately.

Jack regarded her tear-streaked face with alarm. He was mildly surprised to find the alarm to be a little bit genuine....

"Rita, baby! What the hell happened??" he asked, dismayed.

"Oh, Mr. J! It was just awful...." She temporarily gave up on the seat belt, and instead scooted closer to him and buried her face in his shoulder. Jack put his arm around her and pulled her to him.

"It's ok now, sh-sh-sh, tell Uncle Jack what happened....." he encouraged.

"He...well, I guess it was my own fault...I was kind of making out with him...but I suddenly realized, I didn't want to be with him like that! So, I tried to get away, but he tried to force me to stay...and he got really _mad_ at me..." Rita's voice trailed off, her face screwed into a wracked expression of distress as tears again began to slide down her wind-reddened cheeks.

Jack didn't like that, didn't like it at all. It was one thing for him, Jack, to send her into a blushing tizzy of confusion, quite another for some asshole jock to make her _cry._

"Tell...me...what...he..._did." _Jack's voice was suddenly hard and tight, all teasing gone; his eyes had narrowed into sharp slits.

"Well...he grabbed my arm--he left bruises--and tried to pull me back onto the bed, but...I used a beer bottle to threaten him with, and he let me go...."

Jack's expression abruptly changed from dark unease to surprised amusement. He gently turned her face up and regarded her with an appreciative grin of genuine admiration; the image of timid little Rita brandishing a beer bottle at an idiotic, horny teenage boy tickled him to no end. He tried not to betray the depth of his delight, and instead softly clarified, "So...he didn't actually..._hurt_ you, other than your arm?"

"No, he didn't. I just felt so stupid...."

"No, no, no. You weren't stupid. You were living life. Trying something out. And, hey, so you didn't like it. That's ok! You and lover boy there, had a disagreement, but he had no right to treat ya like that. He's an asshole, and I wish to hell you'da knocked some _sense _into him. I gotta tell ya, Rita Mae, I'm proud of ya!! Not every girl would think to turn a beer bottle into a weapon! You got a lot of fight in ya, babe, and that's _good. _Way to go, sweetie! Now, let me see those bruises...."

Rita showed Jack the clear imprint of Robbie's fingers and thumb on her upper arm, and he twisted his mouth into a thin line of disapproval. He shook his head.

"So, how far did you have to walk to make that phone call?" he asked, casually.

"Several blocks. He lives on Lindale Street."

"Lindale, huh? Hey, there's a bunch of pretty ritzy joints on that street, show me his house, will ya?"

He drove back to Robbie's street, and Rita pointed out his house.

"Well, would you look at that? Quite the palace, I'd say! And, what do his folks do?" he quizzed her conversationally.

"His dad's a doctor...."

"Yeah? That his car there, or is it Robbie's?" he quizzed, conversationally.

"That's Robbie's, his dad gave it to him for his sixteenth birthday...."

"Ah, nice! Well, that's enough of this crap, huh? Time to go home?" He looked at Rita, satisfied that she was now calm and somewhat cheered up.

"Yes, please, Mr. J. I'm really tired."

"You got it, toots."

Jack drove Rita home. He walked her up to their floor, and gave her a hug before she went in to her apartment.

"Listen, Rita--don't let this get ya down. There's a million jerks like Robbie in the world, you gotta run into a few of 'em just so's you can learn to spot 'em in the future. You're ahead of the game, now! So, don't worry, someday you'll find a nice guy and you'll appreciate him _more_ because now you have something to compare him to, right?"

Rita smiled and gave a little laugh for the first time that evening.

"Wow, Mr. J, you're right. You always help me see the good side of everything. What would I do without you?" she asked, sincerely. She really wanted to cuddle into his arms again.

"Heh, well, don't know about that! But, you go in and get a good night's sleep, angel, and everything'll look better in the morning. Goodnight, now."

"Goodnight, Mr. J! And, thanks for everything...."

"Sure, kid, anytime...."

Jack watched her disappear into her apartment, and ran his tongue over his scarred lips. He stood still for a moment, considering. He then turned and headed back to his own place; he had a busy night ahead of him already, and now he had an extra little errand to attend to. But, that was ok. Actually, it was beginning to look like he was going to have more fun tonight than he'd planned.....

* * *

The Joker put the final touches of makeup on his painted face, rimming his dark eyes with the black greasepaint in a practiced gesture. His blonde hair was tinged with a green wash-in/wash-out coloring. One day, he'd use the real stuff again, but for now he was enjoying disappearing into the everyday world too much....

He slipped on his heavy overcoat, and then his purple gloves, and he pulled open the hinged grate on the heating return vent that led to his secret rooftop entrance/exit. He clambered out of his building and made his way down the side fire escape, to his other vehicle, a panel van, that he used for "work". So much to do tonight....

The Joker drove to 118 Lindale Street, parked in an out of the way area where his vehicle wouldn't be spotted, and strode purposefully to the house that Robbie Maxwell lived in. He silently entered the house, crept upstairs, and determined where Robbie's room was located by the loud music blaring from it. He casually opened the door, and found Robbie lying on his bed, flipping through a porno magazine and drinking yet another beer.

"Why, hello, there," said the Joker, smoothly, a delicate smile playing at his lips.

Robbie stared at him in utter shock. He was more than half drunk and didn't have the presence of mind to move, and when the Joker approached him, he just cowered deep into his bed.

Before he could begin to struggle or attempt to escape, the Joker jammed a hypodermic needle into Robbie's forearm, and firmly held him down as he lost consciousness. He dug in the boy's pants pocket and found his car keys, then slung him easily over his shoulder and carried him downstairs, straight to Robbie's own car. He stuffed him into the front seat like a sack of potatoes, and headed south.

He drove to a particularly ratty part of old Gotham. He parked Robbie's car, got out, and dragged the lad over into an upright position in the driver's seat. He looked around and motioned to a young woman, who happened to be a prostitute, manning her usual spot nearby.

"Hey, Nadine, how ya doin'? In the mood to make some serious cash tonight?"

"Oo, with you Joker baby? My pleasure! You know I do anything for you! You almost make me like dick again! What you got in mind, sugar?"

"See this sleeping beauty here? I want you to stay with him, keep him safe, until he wakes up."

"Tha's it? What kind of crazy-ass way is that to earn a livin'?" she asked, mystified.

"Weeell, there's a little more to it than that. I want you to get him in a nice, sexy, compromising position, and then, guess what, the _cops _are gonna come by."

"What!! You crazy! I'll get arrested!"

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time, eh? Fact is, you'll _both _get arrested, and that's the _point."_

"Oooh, I see. So, you'll cover my bail and court costs?"

"Yep, plus your normal fee, and a nice 'tip' besides. How does that sound?"

"A free meal and a warm bed for the night, and no dick? Sound like a all-expenses paid vacation, to me, honey."

"Good, good. Well, hop in. He should be coming around in just a few minutes. Have fun."

"You got it, J, baby."

"Is LaMarque around?"

"Sure, he always around."

"Think he'll give me a ride back to my car?"

"No problem, I'll get him for ya."

Nadine made a call, and thirty minutes later, the Joker was back in his own vehicle on his way to his next task, which involved the very permanent "firing" of a traitorous member of his team...apparently, progressive discipline had failed to work....

And, Robbie Maxwell was busy having a nervous breakdown in the back of a patrol car, heading for Gotham County jail.

The cub reporter who received the anonymous phone call regarding the arrest of the son of prominent Gotham City physician, Robert Maxwell Sr., on charges of public lewdness was _ecstatic_. This was the kind of break that made a career, and she was all over the sleazy details, making sure it became a prominent headline in the metro section of the Gotham Times in the very next edition. Where it was quickly picked up by Gotham Cable News and broadcast repeatedly, every hour on the hour, for the entire following day.

Rita was at Lynne's house when the news broke, and the two girls watched in amazement as footage of Robbie, kicking and screaming about a crazy man in whiteface, was yanked out of the police cruiser in handcuffs. Rita wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed that her refusal of Robbie's advances had led to him to resort to such a disgusting and dangerous act.

"Gosh, Lynne, maybe I have more power than I thought...." Rita gasped.

"I think you do! Oh, boy, Robbie Maxwell, Gotham High's most famous john!"

The two girls dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Rita wondered if Mr. J had heard the news yet. He would be so surprised!

* * *

Much air time was given to prostitute Nadine Smith, who managed to parlay the notoriety of her extensive involvement with Robbie Maxwell into a book deal, which allowed her to abandon her life on the streets and buy a cozy little house for herself, her mother, and her seven-year old son.

It was located a few blocks away from Lindale Street.


	7. Back Story

_**A/N: Hello! Sorry to take so long to update, the holidays kicked my butt. Thank you SO much for all the reviews! Here's the next chapter, hope you like...**_

_* * *_

Lynn Appleby was sitting cross-legged on her bed, finishing up her latest English paper. All she had left to do was to find some appropriate quotes to punch it up a bit, and she could do that later. For now, she was sick of thinking and was ready to goof off. She'd just give Rita a call and see if she could hang out for a while.

The phone rang at Rita's, helpfully interrupting her chemistry homework, which she had been ready to give up on anyway. That was one class that she really had to work hard to get decent grades in, and tonight, it was almost impossible to concentrate. The wild events of the night before involving Robbie kept sneaking into her thoughts, alternately disturbing her and amusing her. She really needed to visit with Mr. J to get his perspective on the whole thing, but apparently he wasn't home this afternoon, much to her disappointment.

"Hello?" she answered the phone.

"Hey, Ritzy, what're you doing?"

"Hating chemistry more than you can imagine. What are you doing?"

"Nothing, can I come over? My mom's trying to get ready for her book club this evening and she'd love to get rid of me for a couple of hours."

"Sure, come on over. Maybe we can bake cookies or something."

"Ooo, no wonder Robbie thought you were such a hot date, you really know how to spice things up...."

"Oh, right! Like you're Miss Excitement. You probably want to watch 'Leave it to Beaver' reruns, or clean the bathroom, or something."

"'I'll have you know, Leave it to Beaver' was an iconic masterpiece of American pop culture in the '50's!! At least, until Jerry Mathers hit puberty...."

"Yeah, he really uglied-up, didn't he? Well, come on over..."

"Ok, see ya...."

Lynne got her mom to give her a ride, and she happily strode up the stairs to the third floor. She was surprised to find a tall, slender man with long, wavy blond hair cheerfully humming to himself, sifting through his keys, about to let himself into the apartment next to Rita's.

Jack turned to face Lynne as she approached Rita's door. Lynne was at first startled by his scars, then amazed to see how handsome he was in spite of them; her open, honest face told him exactly what she was thinking, and a slow grin stole over his lips as he frankly looked her up and down. Something about the way he took her in, almost as if he were inhaling her, gave Lynne a weird and unsettled sensation.

"Well, hello there. Friend of Miss Rita's?" he asked pleasantly, his eyes crinkling and his lips twisting further into a knowing smile that made her feel both warm and slightly creeped-out.

"Uh, yeah. Who're you?" Lynne asked suspiciously. Rita never mentioned a new neighbor after Mr. Renssalear died.

"I'm...Jack. Rita calls me Mr. J. Say, you must be Lynne...Rita talks about you all the time! Nice to meet ya..." He ambled over and offered her his hand. Lynne hesitantly took it, and nodded. He had a firm, enthusiastic handshake that made her think of her crazy uncle Morty.

"Yeah. Well, she's never mentioned _you..." _Lynne stated crossly.

"Ah, probably ashamed to admit she knows such a disreputable character as myself. Can't blame her! Well, you girls have a nice evening." He nodded amiably, and went back to unlocking his door. Lynne waited until he was inside and then knocked at Rita's apartment.

"Hi, Lynne..."

"_Rita! _Who's that man?" Lynne demanded accusingly.

"Uh...who?" Rita realized that Mr. J must have come home. Blast it....

"That man next door!"

"Oh, uh, that's just Mr. J..."

"Well, he's _creepy_. Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"Creepy? I think he's kind of cute..."

"Oh, my gosh, you have a _crush_ on him??"

"No! He's just really nice, he's not _creepy...."_

"He is, too, how'd he get those horrible scars?"

"I...I don't know, he never said."

"He looks like an axe murderer!"

"Oh, he does not! You always think the worst of everyone, and how do you know what an axe murderer looks like, anyway?"

"I mean, he looks like...well, I just hope he doesn't know when you're home alone, that's all."

"My God, Lynne, you are so weird. He knows I'm alone all the time! He never bothers me..." Rita was darn sure not going to tell Lynne about her relationship with Mr. J, she would obviously freak out even worse than she already had.

"Does your mom know about him?"

"Know _what, _that he exists? Of course she does! He's a perfectly nice guy, chill out, will you?"

Lynne frowned in disapproval. Rita had no clue as to the evils of older men.

"Well, you just better be careful around him, he's probably a sex offender or something."

"Lynne! You are so crazy, he is not!"

"Oh, yeah? What does he do for a living?"

"He's a consultant."

"What kind of consultant?"

"I don't know! But he's not scary, and I wish you'd just drop it. Come on, let's see what's on TV...."

The news came on, something about a body being found with its throat cut and left in a dumpster behind the main station of the Gotham City Police Department, making Lynne's eyes grow big. Rita knew that look, and quickly flipped around with the remote until she found an old episode of the 'Brady Bunch'.

"There, this is about your speed, isn't it Lynne?" Rita asked, teasingly.

"Oh, sure, make fun. But when _your_ body's found in a dumpster somewhere, don't go crying to me."

"Jeeze...." Rita suddenly realized that she'd picked up that uncharacteristic

term from Mr. J, and guiltily shot a sideways glance at Lynne to see if she'd noticed. But Lynne had wandered into the kitchen and was poking around for a snack.

"Wow, doesn't your mother ever buy any food?" Lynne groused, disappointed by the lack of useful junk food options.

"Yeah, every Friday. Too bad it's only Thursday."

"Well, can we make cookies?"

"I was going to, but we're out of eggs. Hey, maybe Mr. J has some! I'll go ask him." Rita bounded toward the door, happy to have an excuse to see him, even if Lynne was certain he was a serial killer.

"Hey, wait a minute, you're going over there _alone? _No way, I'm coming with you!" Lynne asserted.

"Fine, but if you act like an idiot, I'll strangle you," Rita promised.

"Yeah, if your weirdo boyfriend doesn't do it first..." retorted her friend.

_"Jeeze!" _Rita exclaimed in aggravation, on her way out the door. Lynne followed closely behind her, pulling the door firmly shut.

Jack was already stretched out on his couch, thoroughly enjoying the news report when he heard a soft knock. He broke into a delighted grin; this should be good, he thought.

He opened the door to see Rita, adorable in a light blue, clingy t-shirt, and her rather dowdy looking, bespectacled friend, frowning furiously behind her. Rita gave him a big smile, forcing herself not to go in for a hug, even though the sudden desire to bury herself in his arms again made her insides ache.

"Hi, Mr. J! We were going to bake cookies, but we don't have any eggs. Could I borrow a couple?" asked Rita brightly.

"Eggs! Now, that's a interesting question...why don't you lovely ladies come in and let me organize a safari into the dark recesses of my refrigerator. I vaguely recall buying eggs sometime in the last century, around 1998, I think it was...." Jack left the door open, and headed to his kitchen. Rita started to walk in, but Lynne grabbed her shoulder, giving her a "No way!" look. Rita frowned back at her, shook off her grasp, and took a seat on Jack's couch. Lynne reluctantly followed, sitting protectively next to her friend.

"Well, bad news, my friends, I'm all out of eggs. What's the matter, you girls looking for a snack?" he asked.

"NO!" said Lynne, at the same time Rita said "Yes!" Jack almost laughed out loud. He was getting a kick out of Lynne's discomfort and was sorely tempted to do something to really put her over the edge, but he managed to contain himself.

"Well, I have an idea, why don't I treat you girls to some ice cream? I'm in the mood for something...cold...myself."

"Oh, that'd be great, Mr. J!" answered Rita enthusiastically.

"_Rita! _You are not seriously considering getting into a car with that man!" Lynne hissed in a choked whisper. Before Rita could answer, Jack began pulling on his jacket.

"Come on, ladieees, your chariot awaits....what do you like, Lynne, chocolate? Pistachio? Or are you more of a _vanilla_ fan, hmm?" he quizzed mockingly as he held the door for them. Lynne just shook her head in exasperation. She wasn't sure why, but she did _not _like this man, not one bit. Even though Rita was right...he _was _cute. In a dangerous way...

They trooped down to Jack's car and all piled in the front seat. The car was old enough to have a bench seat with three seat belts, and Rita sat in the middle. She very much liked scooting closer to Jack, to give Lynne enough room. She smiled up at him and he winked at her.

At the ice cream shop, Jack had the girls order first, sending them to find a table while he paid. Lynne took the opportunity to voice her displeasure once again.

"Ok, Rita, you tell me again how he's not creepy," she demanded.

"What are you talking about! He's taking us for _ice cream_--what's creepy about that?"

"It's the way he looks at you! Like he's imagining you without your clothes on or something..."

Rita rolled her eyes.

"You're just afraid of everything, aren't you, Lynne? You don't trust _anybody_..."

"And with good reason! There's a name for grown men who hang around with young girls, you know...."

Just then, Jack came to the table, and Rita felt bad because she was pretty sure he had overheard the end of their conversation.

"Everything all right?" he asked mildly.

"Sure, Mr. J. We were just talking...thank you for the ice cream, by the way," said Rita.

"My pleasure! It's not often I get to enjoy such pleasant company, you know..."

The three wordlessly set about eating their ice cream. Lynne snuck suspicious glances at Jack from time to time, while Rita cast pleading looks at her, hoping she wouldn't embarrass her any further. Jack appeared to be oblivious to the tension, but was inwardly enjoying the silent exchange as if it were a tennis match.

"How'd you get those scars?" Lynne suddenly demanded.

"_Lynne!" _Rita hissed in horror.

"No, no, hon, it's ok, " Jack assured her. "I appreciate people who say what's on their mind. Well, it's an interesting story! Not too pleasant, though...are ya sure you want to hear it?" he asked, a frown of concern for their delicate sensibilities on his handsome face.

The girls glanced at each other, and then both nodded unflinchingly.

"Yeah, Mr. J...go ahead. I'd like to hear it," Rita encouraged gently.

"Ok, but if ya end up have nightmares, don't blame me! It happened way back when I was a kid. I'd just turned seventeen--hey, just your age, Rita!--my family and I went on a vacation to visit relatives in Scotland. Well, I was kind of a rebellious teenager, didn't want to hang around with my folks too much, you know, so I took off on foot one night to go into the little town near my aunt's house." Jack's eyes took on a faraway look and his voice deepened into a warm hum.

"I headed straight to the local pub. You know, drinking age is, like, _twelve, _over there, ha ha, and I bought myself a lager. Then another, and another. I got roaring drunk, and started flirting with this cute girl--she looked kind of like Lynne, here, come to think of it! Hey, kid, you got some ice cream on your chin. Here, let me get that..." Jack stopped to take a napkin to swab away a little dab of chocolate from Lynne's face. It had dried slightly, so he followed by grasping her chin and rubbing it away with his thumb, staring intently into her wide eyes behind the glasses. At his touch, Lynne felt a shiver rush straight through her.

"There you go, dear. Anyway! So, I'm acting like an idiot over this girl, and these two guys, these _BIG,_ big guys, straight off the sheep farm, come up to me and tell me I'm messing with their pal's girl! Naturally, me being drunk and stupid, I mouth off to 'em. Well, they left." Jack paused for a moment, scraping the last dollop of ice cream from the paper cup with his spoon. Lynne couldn't help but watch in fascination as his tongue glided smoothly along the hard plastic, licking the creamy substance off in a slow act of almost reverent enjoyment.

"Mmm. Good stuff, huh? Anyway, the girl gave me the bum's rush when I ran out of cash, so I stumbled out of the bar, intending to head for home, right? I hadn't gotten very far, when the two sheep farmers jump me! They dragged me off into the moors and beat the crap out of me. Then this third guy shows up! Turns out, he's the girl's _boyfriend_, and damn, is he mad. So, he says to me, in this thick Scottish brogue, he says, 'What's wrong, boy-o? You don' look verrry 'appy! Let's put a _smiiile_ on that face!'" The girls almost giggled at the butchered Scottish accent, and Jack himself was slightly grinning, but then he lowered his voice, and leaned in closer.

"_Then_....he took a _knife_ out of his pocket. I'll never forget that blade, shining in the moonlight...it was kind of beautiful, just for a second...he had his buddies hold me down, one had my arms, the other, my legs. He kneeled on my chest, and stuck the knife in my mouth. And he did this to me," Jack made a gesture, indicating a crescent shaped cut in the air, first to the right, then to the left, orchestrating with a turn of his head in each direction. The girls were staring at him, horrified.

"I wanted to scream so bad, but realized I'd make it even worse! When he was done, they ran off and I passed out. I woke up in a hospital bed, all bandaged up. Took _weeks_ to recover! And, lemme tell you somethin', it didn't look so good when the bandages came off, either. Can you imagine, lookin' in the mirror and not recognizing your own _face? _I used to be an ok looking guy, but then...sheesh, I looked like a _freak! _A goddamn freak, excuse my language, girls. Anyway, quite a price to pay for goin' after a little pussy, huh? Oops, sorry again! Shit." Jack's voice cracked a little, and shook his head ruefully. They were all silent for a long moment. Then, Jack brightened.

"Well, whaddya say, I better get you gorgeous gals home, it's gettin' late, huh? You ready?"

The girls nodded, and both got up to meekly follow him back to the car.

As they waited for Jack to unlock the car door from inside, Lynne looked at Rita.

"That poor guy! How horrible, God, can you imagine what he went through?" she said breathlessly.

"Yeah...do you still think he's creepy?" asked Rita curiously.

"Kind of...but in a nice way," Lynne asserted.

Jack smiled.

Damn. Why was it so easy?


	8. Alone

**A/N: I'm not super happy with this chapter, but I had to work up some atmosphere in advance of the next one...hopefully, it will read better to someone who hasn't been messing with it for three days! Tell me what you think, I appreciate all constructive criticism!**

* * *

The Joker loved the night.

Oh, he appreciated the extra bit of convenience darkness lent to his nocturnal activities--the compromised vision of the dull-witted populace certainly made things easier--but that wasn't the night's true allure. He didn't need it for _that. _He loved the night for _itself, _like a rich lover that you stick with even after they go broke because they're the only one who can make you laugh like that...

Sometimes he imagined the night as a living creature, silky smooth, wrapping him in a cool embrace with a delicate caress for scarred skin, a soothing balm on hot eyes. He loved how, as the sun sank, the city lights morphed into an illuminated black velvet painting, and how all his other senses, always keen, became even more heightened.

Sounds sharpened--a rat scuttling in a dumpster, a gunshot ringing in the distance, an argument escaping from an open tenement window. Scents and odors became more compelling--a waft of cigarette smoke, the passing fragrance of a woman's perfume...pizza.

And a touch--whether a gentle stroke on the cheek or a hard fist in the face--acquired a delicious corporeality that stayed with him for hours.

Sometimes, the Joker thought it was only the corrupt, bilious city he loved--his personal vision of hell was spending eternity in a quaint cabin in the woods, with little goddamn bunnies hopping around and fucking _nightingales_ singing--but, no, it just took one outing like tonight to remind him--if the city was his lover, the night was his partner, beloved for its own sweet qualities.

The clown paused on the rooftop of his building. Here, now, he could afford to relax. He could revel in the misty darkness for just a little while longer. He knew which areas of the roof would expose him and he stayed in the hidden places. Peering over the side of the building, he scanned the parking lot. He knew which car belonged to which apartment and counted them off in his head.

Rita's mother's car was gone. Ah, yes...working the graveyard shift, Rita had mentioned that. Lucky woman, becoming a part of the night. And Rita would be alone...a contemplative smile curved his scarred lips as he scrambled down the secret entrance to his own apartment. He blinked as the light from his living room lamp assaulted his eyes. The Joker sighed. Time to shake off the romance of the night and get down to business....yes, always, business before pleasure....

* * *

_Earlier that evening...._

"Rita!" called Gail Ryan, Rita's mom. Clad in a crisp nurse's uniform, she gathered her purse, Gotham General ID card, and keys in preparation for going to work.

"Rita, honey, come on out here and tell me 'bye'! I'm about to head out..." Her mother's soft Southern accent hadn't faded even after years of living in Gotham.

Rita was immersed in a book with her earphones on and didn't hear her mother call.

Gail waited impatiently for her daughter to respond. Then, realizing she probably couldn't hear her over the music, she strode irritably back to her daughter's room and pushed the door open. Rita looked up from her reading, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"Rita, those headphones are going to have to go. The roof could cave in on me and you'd never know the difference. Now, I'm leaving and I thought it might be nice to tell my only child 'bye' before I left, but don't let me disturb you...." The slim, honey-haired woman frowned exaggeratedly, her arms folded across her chest.

"Aw, Mom, come on..." Rita pulled off the headset and went to hug her mother. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. I forgot you were pulling the graveyard shift tonight."

"Oh, I know, it's ok, baby." Gail smiled wistfully. Normally, when she worked an overnight shift at the hospital like this, Rita was able to spend the night with Lynne, but Lynne was staying with her ailing grandmother this week. She hated leaving her daughter alone overnight, but the extra money made it hard to pass up the opportunity, and Rita was seventeen now.... She hugged her daughter tightly and then pulled back to look at her pretty face. Rita had really blossomed lately.

"Now, listen girl, you know the drill. Don't open the door for anyone. Don't tell anyone you're home alone. If anything, and I mean, _anything, _seems strange, call the cops, understand?"

"I know, I know! I'll be fine, Mom, I know what to do."

"And don't _go _anywhere."

"Oh, where would I go? It's not like I have a _car _or anything..."

Gail sighed in exasperation. The car topic was sure to lead to grief. There was no way the struggling single mother could afford a decent car for her daughter.

"Don't even go there! Now, listen, get to bed at a reasonable hour, would you please? Did you finish your homework?" Rita put her hands on Gail's shoulders, turned her toward the door and guided her out of her room.

"I will, and I did. Go, already! Goodbye..."

"Bye, sweetie, I'll call you around 10:00 on my break, like usual."

"Ok, talk to you then."

"See you in the morning, hon!"

Her mother cast one more worried glance at her daughter, and then headed out the door. Rita heard the key turn in the lock; a little thrill of independence flashed through her. Rita very much liked the idea of being on her own all night, free to do as she pleased, even if only within the confines of the small apartment. But...after a moment, she went to double check the lock. It was secured.

The teen headed to the kitchen. Her mom had promised to leave a yummy treat for her, partly out of guilt, partly as a way of leaving behind something of herself with her only child...Sure enough, there was a plate of freshly baked brownies on the counter. Rita poured a glass of milk and munched one thoughtfully. She headed back to the living room, intent on wallowing on the couch and watching TV. But, she cast her eye on the living room windows....

They were covered with both blinds and curtains. Rita wondered if her mom had remembered to lock them after airing out the house yesterday. Of course she had, her mom was obsessive-compulsive about stuff like that. Still...Rita went to the first window, pushed the curtain aside and started to pull up the blind, but hesitated.

The darkness was thick outside, vision obstructed even more by a slowly falling mist. Rita could see the shining white pinpoints of street lights across the way, glinting between the slats. All she had to do was pull the blind apart to check the locking mechanism, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was too much like opening an eye onto the vast unknown world of the night. Like a tip-off to the men who prey on the defenseless and the unaware. What did she think she'd see, if she peeked through those plastic slats out into the street? Who--or _what_--did she think would look back at her?

"I'm being silly," she thought irritably. Resolutely, she pulled the blind open where it covered the divide between the upper and lower part of the window and saw that the lock was securely in place. She repeated the procedure with the other two sections, and at last gratefully pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the night. It was a great comfort to have the cloth, the plastic and the thin sheets of glass standing between it and her....

Sighing, she decided to decline the luxury of the 21" TV screen in the living room and returned instead to her snug bedroom. She was happy to have an interior room, no scary windows for her....

_* * *_

Rita had closed the door to her room, and turned on her small television for company. She wanted to listen to music, but found she couldn't relax without being able to listen for any unusual noises. She pulled off her jeans and t-shirt and found a night shirt to slip into. She settled on her bed--with any luck, time would pass quickly until her mother called, and by then she would be sleepy enough to drift off with no further worries. She picked up her book and was soon engrossed in its pages.

Suddenly, a car backfired somewhere and startled her...she checked the clock. Crap, it was only nine o'clock. It felt like the middle of the night. Another hour until her mother called...maybe she could visit Mr. J, just for a little while. She normally wouldn't bother him this late, but he would understand....

She put her jeans back on, checking to make sure her keys were still in the pocket, slipped on her shoes and strode to the door, then paused. Suddenly, unlocking the door seemed like a bad idea. She dropped her hand and turned back to face the apartment. It was a warm, cozy room, and she had a whole night ahead of her to do whatever she wanted. Honestly, she should play music loudly, watch shows her mother didn't like, see if her mom still kept her forbidden stash of "emergency" cigarettes in her dresser drawer. What did she want to do?

_She wanted to see Mr. J. _

Resolutely, she turned and went into the hall, carefully shutting and locking the door behind her. She glanced down the way. Nothing, no one was there. She headed for her favorite neighbor's door and knocked timidly.

* * *

The Joker was busy. He had satisfactorily pulled off a tricky jewelry store heist that evening, and he had some contacts to make in order to fence the goods. He hadn't bothered to take off his makeup, and was holed-up in his office/communications room, scrolling through a Rolodex of phone numbers when he heard a faint knock at his door. He didn't have to check his security cam to know who it was. A grin stole across his face, but he shook his head regretfully.

"_Aw, baby! I can't come to the door right now, still got my face on..." _he thought. He simply ignored it. The urgency of the second, more insistent knock made him stand up and head to the door. _Jeeze, sounds like a problem, what the hell does she _want_...?_

"Hel_lo_?" he asked through the barrier.

"Mr. J? Um, it's Rita, can I come in?"

"Ah...no, sweetie, I'm, uh, _sick_...you don't want to be exposed to this..." He rolled his eyes at his own lame excuse and absently rubbed at the makeup caked on his jaw.

"Oh, that's ok, I never get sick. My mom's not home and I was just hoping I could hang out with you for a little while...." He heard the plea in her voice. _Damn it, why couldn't she have shown up later, when he was in the mood for a little entertainment?_

"Yeah? Well, I bet this is pretty contagious, your mom would kill me if I let you catch it..."

"Oh...well, would you like me to bring you some soup?"

"No, that's all right, babe, I'm not hungry...Listen, I'm just going to mainline some NyQuil and go to bed." _Damn kid, can't take a hint! And, what was she anyway, Florence-fucking-Nightingale all of a sudden? _

"Oh...ok...well, I'll see you later..." Rita said in disappointment. She reluctantly returned to her apartment, not looking forward to the rest of the evening one _bit. _

* * *

The phone rang at Rita's. She stared at it, pondering the possibilities. It was too early for her mom to call. Lynne was at her grandmother's, no doubt being regaled with stories of the old days. Maybe it was Mr. J; maybe he had taken pity on her and decided to invite her over after all. She picked up the handset and punched the "talk" button.

"Hello?" she asked, hoping to hear Mr. J's smooth voice. But all she heard was a crackling noise, followed by what sounded like someone taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling..."_Hello?"_ she asked, puzzled. Another sharp breath, a long exhalation..."Mr. J?" More crackling, then the line went dead.

Rita felt a rush of cold fear. Mr. J wouldn't make a call like that. He teased her unmercifully, sometimes, but he never tried to scare her. She stared at the phone in her hand and the plot of a dozen horror movies ran through her brain. Suddenly, the phone rang again, startling her so badly that she dropped the handset. She tried to make herself answer it, but decided to just let the machine get it. It rang two more times, but whoever it was hung up as soon as the recorded voice came on. Rita shivered, feeling betrayed by both mechanical devices.

"Ok...that was creepy. But it's not all that unusual, probably a wrong number...shake it off, girl, shake it off..." Rita used the words her mother used to get her back on track after a scare.

Rita put the phone back on the charger, casting watchful glances at it every so often. She settled on the couch and turned on the television, keeping the volume low, and clicked through channels in search of something mindless and unthreatening...suddenly, she heard a dull thud in the hallway, followed by what sounded like footsteps disappearing down the stairs. Rita froze, waiting. Nothing else sounded. Must have been one of the other neighbors going out, she thought in relief. Even so, her heart was pounding; as much as the phone had scared her, not having it handy was even worse, so she picked up the handset and placed it strategically close to her, in case she had to dial 911 in a hurry.

* * *

Jack stood in his dressing area, toweling dry his face and bare chest. The last of his clown makeup was swirling down the drain, and he paused to consider his reflection in the mirror. When he went without the makeup, he rarely bothered with mirrors other than to make sure he wasn't going out looking like an idiot with his hair sticking up or something in his teeth: it was hard for him to see anything but the scars. But now he peered at himself with a critical eye. He was looking older, thinner, and the laugh lines on the sides of his mouth, forever bisected by the scars, seemed deeper than when he was a kid.

He shrugged and slipped a t-shirt over his head. He loved women, but he damn sure didn't understand them. Here he was, just some skinny damn guy with a fucked up face, and yet he never had a problem getting a blow job for free in a toilet at a diner or club or even the local freakin' grocery store, for that matter...what was it with women and these goddamn scars?

Take Rita, for instance. A cute, young gal like that and he had her in the palm of his hand. She should be workin' her way through the football team or banging the rock-star-to-be boys doing bad Ramones imitations in their mommies' garages, not waiting for _him _to drag her panties down on his living room couch, not that it hadn't occurred to him like every friggin' day since he met her, but still...she had that wide-eyed innocent thing going.

He'd played that game before, how many times had he lost his virginity with some hot older babe, charmed by his shy vulnerability? Only to find that while she took his cherry, he was taking her wallet...but, yeah, Rita. She was _for real_.

He smiled to think of her. Such an opportunity. What to do, what to do....

* * *

At ten o'clock on the dot, Rita's mom called.

"Hey, baby, everything ok?"

"Yeah, Ma, it's fine."

"You sure? You sound a little funny."

"Yeah, I was just...I'm fine. How's work?"

They chatted until Gail announced that she had to go back to work, and they hung up.

Rita took a deep breath, and headed back to her bedroom. She was just going to go to bed, she would fall asleep, and before she knew it, morning would arrive and everything would be back to normal. She hoped.

Rita readied herself for bed, slipped out of her jeans again, and crawled under the covers. The room was completely silent...she started to turn off the light, but couldn't quite bring herself to do that. She closed her eyes, listening, listening. She began to drift off, only to be jolted awake by a falling sensation, catching herself just in time..."Oh, for heaven's sake, I was just dreaming..." she thought irritably. She was definitely sleepy, so she snuggled down under the covers and tried to let go again.

She wondered how poor Mr. J was doing. It sucked to be sick and all alone. Rita knew she thought about him too much, knew it wasn't...healthy. Still, here, alone, it was impossible not to let her mind wander back to the time he kissed her...the memory of his warm lips on hers, the way his strong arms had felt, squeezing tightly around her, and his scent....it was all still tangible, still powerful enough to make her feel all squishy inside.

In her mind she could see Mr. J's--_Jack's_-- warm brown eyes, crinkled in amusement, just before he leaned into the kiss...she remembered the way his tongue felt in her mouth, the solid weight of his body, his erection pressed against her leg. Rita didn't have a lot to go on other than some R rated movies, sex ed class, her mom's clumsy attempts to explain intimate things to her, and a sleazy nudie magazine Lynne had once smuggled out of her dad's dresser drawer, but still, she thought she could imagine the rest. She could almost feel the touch of his hands on her most private parts, his body moving inside her....

Rita lay on her back, put her hand under her shirt, into her underwear, moving on down, between her legs, slipping her middle finger inside herself and finding the wetness there. Then, back up to her clitoris, rhythmically stroking herself, softly at first, then harder and harder, until, with a low moan, she expertly brought herself to a blinding orgasm.

She lay still for a moment, regaining her breath, a delicious sense of comfort and relaxation coming over her. She turned on her side, imagined herself lying contentedly in Jack's arms, and soon slipped into sleep.

Time passed, the night churned on outside, and Rita slept soundly. Suddenly, a loud scraping noise from the roof above her shocked her into an upright position, knocking the sleep right out of her eyes.

"Oh, crap!" she actually gasped out loud.

It was probably nothing. A cat, maybe. A...bird. A really big bird? She forced herself to breathe more slowly. The scraping sound came again, quieter and in a different spot.

That was enough. She wasn't going to put herself through this anymore. Maybe she was being a big baby, but that was too bad. It wasn't like she didn't have a place to go, even if he was sick...she'd _make_ him let her in.

Rita headed to the living room, grabbed her keys and the phone handset, sailed out the door, and fell straight into the arms of Mr. J.


	9. With You

**A(?)/N: ****Yeah...well, hi kiddies. Joker here. Listen, I know some of my little pals out there are, ahem, underage...I just wanted to warn you, this chapter has some reeeal sexy stuff in it, some pretty hot content,**** you know? So, if you're still in, like, kindergarten, or, uh, junior high or something, you might want to get yer mommy to read it to you. Tell her to leave out the juicy stuff, ok? Or, ask your, uh, neighbor, or **_**uncle, **_**or somebody, I'm sure they'll be glad to help you out if you ask nicely....**

**Or...oh, hell, look, I'll **_**personally**_** come to your house and...uh, wait just a minute, somebody's coming...huh? What's that, babe? Aw, dammit...Seds is telling me to quit hijacking her story. I better go or she'll rewrite this chapter and I'll **_**never**_** get laid...anyway, don't say I didn't warn ya, have fun, kids!**

_**Real**_** Author's Note: ****Sorry about that. He gets out, sometimes...but, the Joker's right, there is a fairly explicit description of a sexual act in this chapter. Please proceed with caution. Thank you.**

**Seditionary**

* * *

"Whoa, Rita, baby, where you going in such a hurry?" Jack asked in deep amusement. "I was just coming to check on ya!" Rita had barreled out her door so fast, she collided with him just as he was approaching her door, and he had had to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from ricocheting backward onto her butt.

"Oh, Mr. J, this has been the worst night! I've been hearing noises, and getting weird phone calls, and everything's just too creepy, can I stay at your place?" she begged, almost in tears.

"Now, hold on there, angel, what kind of weird phone calls?" He put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around and then slipped one arm over her shoulders and guided her back to his apartment.

"Oh, you know, it rang, and it was a bad connection, and all I heard was some breathing...."

"So, you're saying some creep pulled the heavy-breathing routine on you?" he asked, sounding quite concerned.

"I-I don't know, it was probably just a wrong number..."

"Well, you can't be too careful, a gorgeous young girl like you, all alone all night. I don't like that, not one bit. You say you heard noises, too?" Jack's expression was a frown of deep concentration, as though he were piecing together a mystery.

They settled on Jack's couch, Rita sat at one end with her legs pulled up to her chin and her clingy nightshirt stretched down, secured by her arms. Jack sat near her, leaning back with one arm draped over the back and his legs apart.

"Yeah...something out in the hall, then...it was on the roof." Rita cast a nervous glance upward.

"Aw, baby, this is an old building, it's always creaking and squeaking," said Jack comfortingly.

"I know...but..."

"Well, look, you're all ready for bed, and a very fetching sight you are! Why don't ya sack out here on the couch, I'll get you a pillow and a blanket..."

"Oh, I can't stay over here all night, Mr. J, my mom would freak out..."

"Well, when's she supposed to get home?"

"Around five a.m."

"Ok, so I'll set the alarm and get up and wake you so you can make a break for it."

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that! It's too much trouble..."

"Naw, it's no trouble! I get up real early sometimes anyway..."

Rita was overcome with gratitude; she really couldn't bear the thought of going back to her place alone. She smiled at him. Then a frown of concern clouded her face.

"But, you're sick!"

"Uh, yeah, well, I think I was just a little tired. I'm fine now, though, don't you worry!" he winked, and firmly patted her knee in assurance. "Let me get that bedding and stuff." He gracefully pulled himself to a standing position, and Rita got her mind off her fright by watching his lanky frame disappear into his bedroom. He returned with a pillow, a sheet and a quilt.

"Here, you hop up a minute and let me make this all comfy for you, ok?" he asked, smiling.

"Thanks, Mr. J." She stood close to him as he spread out the sheet, positioned the pillow, and topped it off with the quilt.

"There, you should be nice and snug. Say, mind if I hit the hay myself? I'm really beat..you can watch television, raid the fridge, anything you want, you won't bother me...'

"No, I think I'll go to sleep now, too. I feel so much better here with you, thanks, Mr. J!"

She impulsively threw her arms around the older man, and he rolled his eyes as he returned the embrace. He held her just a tad too long, and placed a warm kiss on her cheek. She eagerly turned her face to his, clearly hoping for more contact....

"Hey, you're killin' me here, kid, you better hop under the covers before I forget you're jail bait, huh?" he admonished.

Rita giggled, but hastily complied.

"Yeah, like _that's_ better," he muttered to himself as he headed for his bedroom.

"Night, Mr. J!"

"Goodnight, kiddo. See ya in the A.M."

He headed back to his bedroom and closed the door. He got ready for bed, undressed, and once under the covers, stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He had to do some serious thinking, now. The kid was obviously up for anything, and, even just a few days ago, he would have been all over that. But, now, after getting to know her...she really was just a sweet kid.

Who the hell was _he_ to yank her into the crazy world of sleazy sex that he knew and loved? He was a lot of things--a lot of um, seriously _bad _things, he supposed--but he never messed around with something like _that_ before. Rita deserved better. She deserved for her first time to be with some sweet little boyfriend who worshipped her, who would bring her flowers, make mix tapes for her, and ask her to the movies on a Friday night.

Yeah...some sweaty boy who'd fumble around, come _waaay_ too quick, never getting her off properly, or, worse, who'd forget to use a condom, and knock her up so fast...when you thought about it, he'd really be doing her a favor. Yeah, a favor! Break her in real slow and easy, then show her what a nice lay really could be like. Make her come a few times, show her how special he thought she was...hell, she'd be lots better off doing it with _him_ the first time. _Lots._

He let go of the pleasurable train of thought as exhaustion caught up with him and he slipped into sleep.

* * *

Rita placed her phone and keys on the floor within easy reach, turned off the lamp next to the couch, and settled in feeling safe and secure once again. Mr. J was so handsome, she thought. She could still feel his warm arm draped over her shoulders, his lips on her cheek...she smiled as she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

An hour passed. Suddenly, her slumber was torn from her by the jangle of her telephone. She gasped, and fumbled around until she found it and punched the "talk" key.

"Hello?" she rasped, her throat dry from sleep. Nothing. Then, the crackling again. The breathing. She hastily punched the "phone off'" key, and bounded out of her bed to Jack's bedroom door, and knocked lightly. No answer. She knocked again, this time harder, but still no response. She carefully turned the knob, opened the door slightly, and peeked into the darkened room.

"Mr. J?" she whispered. She could hear soft, rhythmic breathing and, the bed illuminated by the light from the other room, she could discern a tangle of blond curls, a bare back, and an arm resting above the covers. She approached the bed, walking softly in an attempt not to startle him awake.

"_Mr. J?" _she said, a little louder. She approached the bed and gently knelt on it, reaching out carefully to shake his shoulder. Suddenly, the man in the bed flipped over, grabbing her by the neck with one hand, a glinting blade in the other...she felt the cold steel on her neck as he pushed her, hard, into the bed.

"Mr. J!" she squeaked, horrified. She could see his eyes, narrowed and blank, as he tried to focus on her. Suddenly, he came to himself, and harmlessly removed the knife from her throat.

"Oh, man, Rita, baby! I'm so sorry! Damn, I just about gave you a permanent smile right on your neck! Shit, what're you doing in here?" he asked, blinking at the intrusion of light.

Rita was now slightly less distressed to hear his comforting voice, but her heart was still pounding too fast.

"I-I got another weird phone call, and I came in here to ask you if you would answer if it rings again--maybe if a man answers, they'll stop--and then...then... you pulled a _knife _on me..." Rita couldn't believe she was saying those words.

"Aw, sweetie! I was sound asleep, it's always dangerous to wake up somebody suddenly if they're not used to havin' you around! I just keep a knife handy in case some clown tries to break in here or somethin'. Can't be too careful in the city, you know? Hey, c'mere..." He pulled her under the covers with him and cuddled her close. She nestled against his warm body, noting with both relief and regret that he _was_ wearing underwear.

"Hey, where's that phone...if it rings again, you bet I'll give the bastard something to breathe heavy about..." Rita handed him the handset, which he put on the nightstand, and she lay her head on his bare chest. She dared to slip her arm around his waist. For a moment they lay quietly together, ostensibly waiting for the phone to ring again.

He wouldn't make a move. He wouldn't say a word.

_He wanted to see what she'd do. _

She finally looked up at him. Even in the low light, he could see her clear blue eyes searching his own.

"I want to stay here, with you, tonight, Mr. J," Rita said softly. He could hear the ache in her voice.

Jack stifled a grin.

"What, here? In bed? With _meee?" _As though such a thought never occurred to him in all his life.

She nodded, holding her breath.

"Yeah? You sure about that?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm sure."

"Well, now, let's discuss. So, that fucker Robbie didn't nail ya?'

"No, Mr. J!" Rita responded, shocked.

"Anybody else come along I don't know about?"

"NO!"

"Ok...so, uh, you're still a virgin...right?"

Why was that word so harsh, she thought. She didn't want to look at him, but she nodded, staring up at the ceiling. He took her chin in his hand and made her turn to him. He dropped the joking tone.

"Rita...listen to me. If you stay here in my bed, by the time morning comes, you won't be able to say that anymore. You understand?" he warned.

"Oh...I...yes, ok."

"Is that what you want?"

"Uh..._yes..."_

"Don't make me be the one to break your heart, kid."

"I just want to be with you, Mr. J."

"Hey, if you're going to let me do ya, you should call me Jack," he said, teasing again.

"Ok...Jack.," she said awkwardly.

"One more time, babe, you really want...you know, for _me _to be the one to...."

"Yes, Jack. That's what I really want." Rita wasn't afraid. Nervous, yes, but not afraid. She knew what she wanted.

He laughed a deep, throaty laugh, and wrapped his entire body tightly around her in an all-encompassing embrace. He slipped one hand under her nightshirt, and noted with amusement the decidedly un-sexy feel of sensible cotton panties. He was willing to bet they were white.

Rita squeezed back as hard as she could, loving the weight of him, the way his flesh burned hot against her. Instinctively, unthinkingly, she parted her legs, pressing her bare thighs against his trim waist. She felt the long, hard bulge of his straining erection, still held captive by his shorts, pressing into the cleft between her legs, and she thrust her hips upward, meeting his bony pelvis in an awkward entreaty.

Jack buried his face in her neck, and she could feel the scratchy stubble of his jaw scraping over her soft skin. He seemed to be breathing her, taking her in like air. She felt a low rumble in his throat, heard an unintelligible syllable...he found her mouth and kissed her, no teasing, no joking now, just a wet tongue slipped between her eager lips....

His full lips sliding warm and saliva-slicked over hers, sending powerful electric charges straight to her crotch. Rita tentatively brushed her fingertips over the raised edges of his deep, ragged scars, and to her surprise, found them tantalizing rather than repulsive. She felt almost guilty, stealing this selfish pleasure from such a heinous act, but she stroked them more firmly when he nudged his cheek against her hand, obviously responding with pleasure at her touch.

Then, his hands, trailing from her back around to her breasts, so gentle at first, fingertips brushing her nipples, creating a curious churning sensation in her belly. Almost like, what? Fear? No...excitement, urgency...it was _desire_, although the word meant nothing to her yet_._

Rita felt him pulling at her night shirt, trying to take it up over her hips, past her waist. Yes...she raised herself so he could slip it over her head, but he put his hands under the garment instead, cupping each breast, loving how they filled his hands perfectly, squeezing, not hard, but not exactly gently either. She made a soft moan into his mouth, and he pulled away from the site of his tongue's explorations to look at her carefully.

"You ok? Wanna stop?" he suggested in a low voice.

"No, I'm fine, I'm...fine, Jack." Rita smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

"You know, I used to think you were a smart girl...."

"I _am _smart," she assured him.

"I dunno, I'm beginning to wonder..." he teased.

"Kiss me...please, Jack," she ordered.

He chuckled and went back to her mouth, gently nipping her lower lip, then moving downward, biting along the line of her neck, sending powerful little shocks through her body. Now he _did _want her shirt off, and he tugged playfully at it. She sat up enough to let him pull it over her head, and she thought it was funny that she didn't feel the least bit embarrassed, even when he plainly ogled her pretty bare breasts.

Jesus, he loved tits. How could something be so firm, only to practically dissolve into insane softness at the touch of his hand? Like a pillow you could sink into forever...he took first one, then the other, in his mouth and suckled at them, making her moan in surprise, but also pleasure. The lick of his tongue on each nipple was a soft caress, leaving a slight chill as cool air hit wet skin when he moved lower.

Jack's fingertips traced the slight indention of her abdomen, lightly tickling around her belly button, making her laugh. He laughed too, and kissed her there. They smiled at each other for a moment, then he ran a finger across her belly, inside the waistband of her underwear, finishing with a crisp snap of the elastic.

"I'm afraid these are going to have to come off if I'm going to do business with you, Miss Ryan," he said in a professional voice.

"Ok," she breathed. Yes, yes. She wanted him inside her, no more waiting. Rita raised her hips and let him pull them down, over her thighs, down to her knees. She wriggled out of them, and, pleased, Jack closed his eyes as he ran his hand over her bare bottom, pulling her against him, squeezing each firm, soft cheek in its turn. His touch made her shiver, and she softly spoke his name as she clung to him.

Rita could feel his erection throbbing under the thin fabric of his underwear, and when he took her hand and firmly guided it under the cloth, onto his length, she was fascinated to discover how silky smooth the head was, how unyielding the hard shaft was as she clutched it tightly. He clasped his hand over hers and taught her to stroke him firmly, to slide the taut skin up and down over the steel rod inside, squeezing and releasing in a steady rhythm...she pulled away in surprise when she discovered a sudden leakage of sticky fluid coming out of the head....he gave a low laugh, "That's ok, baby, it' supposed to do that. It's to make it easier to get inside you..." he explained. She nodded, letting the liquid coat the head as she went back to caressing him.

Jack loved her using her small hand on him, so shy at first but then, bolder, stronger. He made appreciative noises, but it was becoming too much, too soon. He reclaimed her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm before he pushed her flat onto her back. He slipped his own hand between her legs and found her unexplored entrance, slowly sliding his long, slender middle finger into her. He paused to see how she would react, but she simply accepted the intrusion, so he began probing deeper, rhythmically dipping in and out, letting her get used to the idea.

He took the wetness he gathered there and used it to slick up her clitoris, and began drawing lazy circles around the area as he went back to kissing her greedily. It pleased him to feel the hardening of that tiny but powerful organ, gradually closing in on the spot, intensifying the pressure and speed, until the deep shudder that wracked her slim body let him know he had succeeded in taking her where he wanted her to go.

She broke the kiss when she choked out a cry of amazed pleasure. He listened to her rapid breathing, could feel her heart beating against his chest, and he kissed her once more before offering a bit of practical advice.

"Ok, I never did a virgin before, babe--you have to tell me if I'm doing something you don't like, you know? 'Cause, otherwise, I'll just bang away 'til I'm done..."

"Ok, Jack, I will," she promised, not really able to imagine him doing something she didn't like. She couldn't believe she was doing this in the first place, that this was finally happening. In a way, she wished it were already over with and that she could just lay securely in his arms. At the same time, she wanted to know. Just to know....

He slipped out of his boxers, and in the dim light she got a look at what had been pulsing in her hand. She tentatively reached out to touch it, here, out in the open, a brand new experience to see a man's erection poised above her, and he let her lightly trace inquisitive fingertips down the shaft of his cock before pushing her warm, slender thighs well apart with his knee. In a way, he envied her wonder, it was too bad it was so dark in the room; he would have liked to take a peek at something _he'd _never seen before, a little virgin pussy nestled below him, awaiting his invasion. No matter, no matter....

He knelt between her legs, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and took out a box of condoms. A new, memorable sound for Rita--the snap of the cellophane wrapper being torn open. She watched as he took out the prophylactic and began rolling it onto his length, the rubber stretching to conform to his size and shape, like a stocking mask over a bank robber's face. He then took a tube of lubricant and slicked up his sheathed manhood, wiped his hand on the bed sheet, and leaned down to kiss her again.

"Ok, angel. Here. we...go. Ready?" he asked kindly.

Rita just nodded.

"Try to relax."

He found her entrance and gave a strong, but controlled, thrust into her. He heard her breath hitch and he looked at her to see if he could gauge what she was needing from him. He gave another short thrust, then another, and another, when she gave a little cry of pain.

"What's the matter?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, Jack, it..._hurts."_

"Aw, sorry baby. Hang in there. Just a couple more inches and it'll be all the way in, ok?"

"...Ok..." she said in a small voice. The pain was sharp and came from deep inside her. She hoped it wouldn't get any worse, or she was afraid she'd have to ask him to stop...

Jack gave another firm push into her, and this time she didn't protest when he thrust deeper, until his pubic area was pressed solidly against hers and his entire member was sheathed tightly inside her warm body.

"Doing ok?" he asked.

She nodded. After the one flash of tearing pain, she found it became easier.

"Well--I'm gong to get down to business, then. Tell me if I need to slow down, ok?

She nodded again.

He held himself up with his arms fully outstretched, and began thrusting into her, trying very hard to go slow, but gradually building to a fevered pace, loving her tightness, her soft whimpering moans, the slight movements she made under him. He almost forgot about the annoyance of the condom, preventing him from enjoying raw contact with the warmth, the wetness, of her. If he was going to stick around, he'd tell her to get on the damn pill, like, _yesterday._

"Come on, baby, move a little more for me...." he encouraged. He liked it when women really bucked hard under him, put a little fight into it. He liked it when they used their cunt muscles, squeezing his dick while he fucked 'em...not that he expected that from her. Not from this little angel...no, she was just learning, he guessed he was lucky she wasn't yelling at him to get the hell off of her....

Rita tried to comply, but she was too overwhelmed, dealing with not just his length, but how thick his member was, stretching her open in a way she had never imagined possible. His powerful thrusts no longer actually hurt her, but each one seemed to steal a breath from her, and she found it hard to control any particular muscle group at all.

Soon, she became vaguely aware that her lover had gone somewhere else in his head and was now focused only on satisfying the urgency that was driving him to rock so deeply into her, bringing animalistic grunting noises out of him every so often. From time to time he muttered something, not words exactly, but as his thrusts became harder, deeper, she heard a low, coarse demand, "Come on, baby, _come on_, do it, come _on..." _

His thrusting, now rough, harsh, hit her clitoris over and over, building a tension, a need, broken at last by a flood of pleasure that washed over her and she cried out in amazement. It was different from what she could do for herself, different even than what Jack had done earlier using his hand. The heat started deep inside her and rolled like thunder over her entire being, leaving her shaky and weak, clinging to him like a frightened child as the paroxysms rose and fell in a powerful rhythm. She opened her eyes to see Jack half-smiling down at her, tangled blond strands framing his face, as he gasped between thrusts, "_There's_ a good girl--_that's_ what I wanted--you're a good girl, baby...come on, gimme little more, just a li'l more..."

His voice broke and he gave a few more potent, almost brutal thrusts, and a guttural groan came from low in his throat as he arched his back and came as far inside her as he possibly could. She could feel the throbbing after-bursts as his rigid member finished the job, then began quieting, softening. Rita felt some sense of relief when Jack lowered himself onto her, burying his face in her neck, panting as the electricity of his release careened through his skinny body.

They lay like that for some time, Rita stroking his back, probing to find muscles, bone, the structure of his amazing body hidden under taut flesh. Finally, Jack reluctantly withdrew his now-spongy penis from inside her, rolled off as he removed the semen-filled rubber and carelessly dropped it down beside the bed. He took her in his arms and tipped her head back so he could look at her. A broad grin stole across his face to see her content expression, then he said hoarsely, "You ok, kid?"

Rita nodded. She was. She nuzzled up against his chest and said softly, "I'm glad it was you, Mr. J."

"Yeah, well, me too. Look, if you decide to start givin' those pen-dick little high school boys some pussy, don't let 'em act like they're doing you any favors, ok, babe?"

"I won't," Rita promised sleepily.

"Good. 'Cause, you're something special, you know that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ok. And, don't let 'em talk you into doing it without a rubber, either. Oh, they'll promise to pull out, but that's bullshit."

"Ok, Mr. J."

"Yeah, you don't want to be dropping a kid off at daycare on the way to graduation, do you?"

"No, sir..."

"Ok. Well, we better get some sleep, huh?"

Rita nodded absently one more time before drifting into a deep sleep. Jack held her for a while, trying to remember what else it was he wanted to tell her, things she needed to know that he wouldn't be around to teach her, but he found himself nodding off as well. He finally eased her onto her side of the bed, turned over and was soon as unconscious as his newly deflowered bedmate.


	10. Open Window

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for reading!! Thank you, of course, to everyone who has reviewed, I deeply appreciate comments and suggestions!! This is a short chapter, more next time!! **

**Seds**

***

The harsh ring of a loud, clattering bell woke both Rita and Jack shortly before five o'clock in the morning. Jack irritably punched the "off" button on his alarm, and peered down at the girl in his arms, her eyes tightly shut, apparently trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while she snuggled against his side, hoping she would be allowed to remain asleep.

He grinned at the sight; normally, he detested having someone sleep pressed against his body, no matter how much debauched pleasure she might have given him the night before. He hated the sweaty heat of another person against his bare skin, feeling their moist breath on him, the intrusion of their ultimately boring energy on the satisfying chaos of his own, but this was...amusing, at least. She reminded him of a exhausted puppy. He supposed he had given her a pretty good workout the night before....

"Hey, cutie-pie, you better get up before Mommy gets home, huh?" he whispered in a voice raspy from sleep. When he got no response, he began methodically peeling her off of him, limb by limb.

"Nooo, please, just a little longer...." Rita pleaded as she fought to cuddle in closer to him. She discovered she loved waking up in his arms more than anything in the world. Her memory of the night before was deliciously vivid, and she realized she had been dreaming of him. The slight rawness between her legs just served to make it all the more real. She burrowed her face into his neck, amazed again at how strong his body was, yet how gentle his touch could be.

"Sorry, you don't want Mom calling the cops, or something, do ya?" He kissed her, then gave her a firm shove to her side of the bed. He swung his legs over the side and bent down to find his pants and shirt. When he stood to dress, he looked up and watched in a sudden cloud of lust-filled appreciation as Rita reluctantly stood, completely naked, and stretched, her arms over her head, making her delightful breasts pop forward with little shivers as she arched her back.

_"Shit," _he thought, regretfully shaking his head as his erection came to full attention. Damn Mrs. Ryan, having to come home and spoil his fun. It would have been _so _nice to stay in bed with the girl, get a little more of that sweet nookie, then fall back asleep for a while, maybe get some breakfast later...aw, it was beginning to look like he might have to stick around a little while longer after all, he had definitely _not_ tapped the full potential of this opportunity.

He watched Rita pull on her white cotton panties (_I'd of won that bet_, he thought with a grin) and then her night shirt. Rita unenthusiastically trudged out of his bedroom to find her keys. Jack remembered her phone handset, and took that, as well.

They groggily made their way back to Rita's door. She fumbled with her keys and let herself in. Jack hesitated, then stepped in as well. Surely he had time to give her a goodbye kiss and fondle those amazing tits one more time....

As he came up behind her, he heard her breath hitch. "What's wrong, babe?" he asked curiously. Rita was staring hard at the living room curtain, blowing lazily in the early morning wind. She turned to Jack, apprehension in her eyes.

"Mr. J...I left that window shut and locked. I'm sure of it..." she said in a small voice.

Jack instantly reached in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a stiletto, snapping the blade from its case in a fluid movement. He ran his tongue over his lips and began surveying the small apartment.

"Stay behind me, kid, keep an eye on the door," he instructed. He went to the window--the blind was pulled up and the lower part of the unit was wide open. He noticed the area around the lock had fresh pry marks, and a cigarette butt on the ledge. He stabbed it carefully with the tip of his knife and brought it in. He took note that it was a cheap, common brand. It was dry, indicating it had appeared sometime after the early evening misting had stopped. He left it on the window frame without touching it.

"You been smoking?" he asked. Rita shook her head firmly.

"Hmm." Jack headed to the first bedroom, Rita's mom's, and checked the closet and under the bed. He then went to the second bedroom, which was Rita's.

"This your room?" he asked with a smile. Her walls were decorated with various band posters, notes and drawings she had done, as well as a couple of vapid prints of unicorns that had been up ever since she was thirteen.

"Yeah...I need to redecorate," she said almost to herself.

"Naw, it's cute..." he said, chuckling as he checked the closet and under the bed. He proceeded to look in the rest of the house for anyone who might be hiding. They both froze when they heard a key turning in the door.

Gail Ryan walked in, only to find her daughter clad in her night clothes and the man she vaguely recognized as her next door neighbor standing in her living room.

"My God, Rita! What are you...what are you doing? And what the hell are _you_ doing here?" she demanded of Jack. She looked around for the phone, intent on calling 9-1-1 at the slightest hint of trouble.

"Uh...hi, Ms. Ryan," Jack said apologetically. "Yeah, look, Rita heard a noise and got scared and came to get me..."

"I was getting strange phone calls all evening, Ma..." Rita added.

"And, we discovered the window was open...I think somebody tried to break in."

"Oh no..." Gail said weakly. She ran to Rita and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you, thank you Mr....?"

"You can call me Jack," he said, extending his hand. Mrs. Ryan shook it appreciatively.

"Oh...this is horrible," she added.

"What's wrong, Mom? I'm ok, really...'' Rita assured her.

"Yes...but...I'm going to have to call the police," she said, looking for the phone.

"Yeah, good idea. Well, I'll leave you to it," Jack said hastily heading for the door.

"Wait, please, Mr., uh, Jack..." Gail said worriedly. "I wish you'd stay here, with us." She had only seen the man in passing, taken notice of the horrible scars, but never thought much more about him. She was very grateful that he had been around to help her little girl.

"I think...I think I know who was making those calls and tried to break in," she added.

"Who?" Rita asked, surprised.

"There was a patient at the hospital a couple of days ago...they brought him in for treatment from the jail. He was...creepy. He flirted with me, and made sure he got my name. I thought he was safely back in jail, but...maybe he got out already."

Jack frowned. "What was his name?" he asked casually.

"Uh...let's see. Charlie something. Osborne? No, Oswald."

Jack's eyes narrowed.

Gail made the call to the police, and Jack stationed himself by the window, leaving the women to chatter excitedly in the kitchen as they set about making coffee. When the cop car pulled up, Jack headed to the door.

"Listen, ladies, the cops just arrived, so you'll be ok. If you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work, now."

"Oh, ok, Jack. Thank you again, I really appreciate you taking care of my baby girl." Gail put a protective arm around Rita and smiled at her.

"Yeah, thanks, Mr. J!" Rita said, with a wistful wave. She really wanted to hug him goodbye....

"Glad to, uh, do it. Yeah. I'll see you around...." He rolled his eyes at the irony of the situation and made a hasty escape into his apartment just as he heard heavy steps on the stairwell.

* * *

The Joker was pissed. Charlie Oswald was an old acquaintance of his; how annoying to hear that he was messing around in the Joker's territory. Not that he thought the obnoxious little shit knew whose territory he was messing around _in_; nevertheless, he had to put a stop to it. The Joker didn't want Oswald ruining this deal for him. If he kept scaring Rita and her mom, the cops would start coming around all the time. Rita's mom might even decide they needed to move.

Plus, Oswald was a crazy fuck. He might even go so far as to try to hurt Gail Ryan.

Or, Rita.

And there was no way he was going to let that happen. No fucking way.


	11. Need A Ride?

**A/N: Hey, all, I need to interject here. I neglected to set up the time period for this story at the beginning! It is a couple of years pre-Dark Knight and the Joker is just beginning to be a force to be reckoned with by the police. At this time, he isn't quite as murderous and large-scale with his violence, and he hasn't begun to reveal himself to the media and the police, so his scars don't give him away. He also hasn't yet taken to killing off all his helpers without good cause...anyway, back to the story, hope you like...**

* * *

Rita and her mom were sitting at the dinner table. The television was on, and Rita seemed more interested in watching it than in eating her food. Her mother watched her listlessly picking at her dinner, and felt dismayed. Rita had been acting so depressed and miserable since the break-in three nights ago. Gail felt both angry and frustrated by her inability to protect her daughter from those distressing events, and now she didn't know how to make it better.

"Sweetie? How was school today?" she asked in an attempt to capture her attention.

"Fine." Rita didn't look away from the TV.

"Anything interesting happen?"

"Uh-uh."

"What's Lynne been up to? How's her grandmother?"

"Fine. They're both fine."

Gail started to give up, but then had a thought.

"Well, something funny happened at work today. Remember Dr. Perry? The one who used to be so heavy? Well, he had that gastric by-pass surgery, and he's lost a bunch of weight. And today, as he was rushing in for the morning meeting, his pants fell down!! Fell right down in front of the whole nursing team! Oh, it was hilarious! He was so embarrassed, but you know, we all cheered because it means he's doing so good! Isn't that funny?"

Rita finally looked at her mother with an expression that indicated she thought her mom had suddenly begun speaking in a Martian dialect.

"Uh, yeah. Real funny." She shook her head and returned to prodding the food on her still-full plate. Gail was losing patience....

"Honey, you've got to snap out of this! I know what happened the other night was upsetting, but really, everything's ok. The super put new locks on the windows and door, and I'm not going to volunteer for any more late shifts, and we're fine, just fine! Now, come on, baby, can't I get a smile?" pleaded Gail.

Rita rolled her eyes, but gave her mother a begrudging smile.

"Well, now, see there? It _is_ possible." Gail stood up and kissed Rita on the head, and picked up her barely-touched plate. "I'll put this in the fridge for later since you're obviously not hungry now. Have you done your homework?" Rita shook her head. "Well, you better get going. You don't want to be up all night working on it."

Rita got up and headed for her room without answering. She felt bad; her poor mom, taking the blame for her foul mood. Well, in a way she _was _responsible, but not for the reasons she thought.

Gail had asked to be switched to days, at least temporarily, and had been home for the last three afternoons and evenings, thus eliminating any opportunity for Rita to spend more "quality" time with Mr. J. In fact, she hadn't gotten to see him at _all _since that wonderful, scary, amazing night...surely he could have come by to check on her and her mom, there wouldn't be anything strange about that. She wondered if he was even thinking of her. Why hadn't he been around to at least say hello? Had what happened between them really meant so little?

* * *

The Joker was feeling damned frustrated. His mind kept wandering when he needed it to be focused on the task at hand--cracking the safe at the Gotham Savings and Loan. Damn it, missed it by one click...he had to start the whole fucking number sequence over again.

"Uh, boss?" one of his henchmen tentatively hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, can't you see I'm working, here?" the Joker replied irritably as he strained to hear the tumblers fall.

"Yeah, sure, but we need to hurry up. Cops'll be here any minute..." The boss wasn't usually so slow to work his charm on mechanical devices.

"Well, then, maybe you should leave me the fuck alone and let me get this _done_..." the Joker growled. Just then, the safe door swung open and the Joker stepped back to allow his man to do the menial labor of loading up the canvas bag with the loot.

The Joker pulled his clown mask down to cover his face and stepped back into the bank lobby to check on the situation. His other men were doing a good job keeping the citizens under control, brandishing their weapons in a threatening manner, and he sauntered around, offering helpful advice such as "Keep your hands where we can see 'em, pal, or we'll have to blow 'em off for ya," and "Don't try anything tricky, angel, you're too good-lookin' to have to have a closed-casket funeral..." but his heart wasn't in it.

The sound of sirens in the background spurred all four men to hustle to the get away car, and they sped off seconds before the GPD vehicles slammed to a stop in front of the bank.

The driver, Moe, cast an angry glance at the rest of the money-laden gang.

"What the hell took you so long? I thought I was gonna shit my pants, I could see the cops coming up over the hill...."

The three other henchmen cast nervous looks between them. They didn't dare lay the blame where it belonged--on their strangely slow-handed boss.

The Joker sneered at the lot of them.

"What's the matter with you pussies? Why don't ya just say it? You think I'm losing my touch, don't ya? _Well?"_

"Uh...anyone can have a bad day..." opined Curly, helpfully. The other two nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "Yeah, a bad day, that's right," said Larry encouragingly. Moe glanced in the rear view mirror at his comrades, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Jeeze, what the hell happened back there, did you fuck up, Boss?" he asked in childlike wonderment. The Boss _never _fucked up.

"No, I did _not-t. _I just...lost my train of though for a minute. Too busy worrying about you inept baboons screwing everything up, I guess," the Joker spat, absently looking out the window as they sped to their base of operation, an abandoned warehouse on the east side.

The Joker sighed. Of course, Moe was correct. He _did _fuck up. And he knew why.

The girl.

_Rita._

What the hell was the matter with him? Since when did a little piece of tail get to him like this? It wasn't just that he was so damn horny, all of a sudden. Hell, he could take care of that little problem, even though Nadine had given up the life, and was happily living with her new girlfriend in suburbia. Not like there weren't other perfectly accommodating ladies out there, just waiting to make...his acquaintance.

No, it was worse than that. He wanted _her._ Rita, with that little school-girl ass gift-wrapped in the sensible white cotton panties. The way she giggled, how she talked so fast when she got excited and the words just came tumbling out one on top of the other, like quarters from a slot machine. And, damn it, the way her cherry-flavored lip gloss tasted, and her wide blue eyes and that innocent little mouth that he would just love to...aw, jeeze, never mind, this wasn't exactly helping. All he needed was to get a hard-on with his goons watching. He was glad when their car pulled into the garage and the gang gathered around to divvy up the cash.

The Joker took his portion--exactly twice what everyone else got, it was only fair, seeing that he was the brains behind it all, and the one with the technical expertise. The one who wouldn't hesitate to blow their brains out if they argued too much. But...he divided his share in two, and silently gave each of the men an equal amount of one of the halves, stuffing the rest in a bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

_There, _he thought. _That's what I deserve for going soft on some chick. If this keeps up, I'll be in the poorhouse._

Without a word of explanation or goodbye, shoulders slumped, head down, he turned and trudged off to his own vehicle as his men stared in utter astonishment at the receding figure of their normally hard-edged boss. He had never once given a penny more than he promised in the whole time that they knew him.

They each looked at each other, perplexed. Curly shrugged.

"I think the Boss has lost his freakin' mind," he said philosophically.

The other men nodded, and the little band quickly dispersed, each happily making plans for what they would do with the extra money.

* * *

Charlie Oswald sat in his car, parked across the street from the ER of Gotham General Hospital. It was getting late, and Gail--beautiful, beautiful Gail--had not yet arrived at work. It was making him edgy. He had just begun to figure out her work schedule, and now, looked like she'd gone and changed it.

He didn't like that. It was as if she didn't _want_ to see him, for some reason. He couldn't understand it--he only wanted to look at her. To _watch _her. At first, he'd been content with brief glimpses of her going to and from work, once he found out she didn't leave her curtains open at home, but now she was thwarting him of even that little pleasure.

This made twice that she'd disappointed him. The first time was when she turned out not to be home the night he finally worked up the courage to come and see her. He forgave her for that, though. She hadn't been expecting him. This time...it seemed _deliberate_. He'd have to say something about it. He'd have to bring it to her attention.

He'd have to make her say she was sorry.

* * *

The next day, Rita was dejectedly walking home from school, despairing of ever seeing Mr. J again, when a familiar black sedan pulled up beside her.

"Hi, gorgeous. Need a ride?" a smooth, rich voice called. Her heart soared as she peered into the car's interior and saw the dazzling grin of her Mr. J.

"Oh, Jack! Where have you been, I've missed you so much!" she cried as she slipped into the passenger seat closest to him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a delicious, warm kiss.

"I'm sorry, sugar, work's been kicking my butt lately. How'd you like to go grab a soda or something?" he asked, steering with his left hand, his right arm securely around her.

"Aw, I'd love it, but my mom's going to be home in just a little while. Ever since the break-in, she's been working early shifts and she freaks out if I'm not home on time," Rita sighed.

"Smart lady. Listen, you be glad you've got such a nice mom, and don't give her a hard time. But that sure cuts in on our little after-school chats, doesn't it?" he asked, glancing at her with an expression of exaggerated regret.

"Yeah," Rita agreed wistfully. "I really miss you, Mr. J...."

"Me, too, babe."

Rita was silent for a minute, biting her lip, unsure how to say what she wanted to say.

"I...I wish..." she felt herself redden, then plunged ahead.

"I wish we could be together again," she said, hoping against hope he would get what she meant without her having to spell it out.

"Yeah...so, what're we going to do about that?" he asked, casually.

She turned to look at him in excitement. So that night _did_ mean something to him after all!

"I...I don't know. What _could _we do?"

"Weeell...you can't sneak out. Smart mom's like yours always snap to that bullshit real quick. What else could we do?"

"Uh...I could make up an excuse to go see you?"

"Naw...your mom wouldn't fall for that. Anyway, that wouldn't give us enough time."

"Oh...it wouldn't?" Rita asked, bewildered.

"No, baby! I want to spend another nice, long night with you, have you all to myself, no worries...we can't do that if your mommy's waiting for you to come home." He spoke in an almost hypnotic voice, and when he brought the car to a stop at a red light, he bent his head down and kissed her deeply, this time slipping his tongue into her mouth. She felt her legs turn to Jello, which seemed to be an almost automatic reflex whenever he got close to her.

"Um...I could tell her I was spending the night at Lynne's...."

Jack's eyes widened in fake surprise.

"You'd _lie _to your _mother?" _he asked, apparently aghast.

"Uh...well...I guess...I never have, really, but..."

"Oh, no, babe, I don't want you to do that," he said, accelerating through the green light and shaking his head disapprovingly.

"But, what else could we do?" she asked, stumped.

"Well...if your mom went back to working nights...it'd be easy," he explained.

"But, she's scared to leave me alone now!" Rita answered.

"Yeah...but, why did she start working late in the first place?" he asked gently.

"Because the pay is better..."

"Yeah...so, isn't there anything she needs some extra money for?"

"Well, we always need money...but, she was trying to save up to buy me a car."

"Ah...ok. So, if a real good deal on a car came up, maybe she'd be willing to put in a couple of nights to get the dough together, huh?"

"Uh...I guess so. But, it'd have to be pretty cheap, and in good shape. Who'd have a car like that who'd be willing to sell it?"

"It just so happens I've been thinking about trading in this baby for a slightly sportier model," Jack said with a grin. "In fact, I was just looking at some fast little foreign numbers that I've had my eye on for a while. I'd only get a few hundred for a trade in on this thing, even though it's in great shape. I bet your mom could come up with the cash with just a few more late night gigs. And, I bet she'd feel better if you had some wheels, she wouldn't have to worry about you walking home from school by yourself, right?"

"Right..." Rita said thoughtfully.

"And, this is a damn tank, perfect for a beginner to learn to drive in," he said mischievously as he pulled into one of the more secluded spaces in the apartment parking lot and took Rita fully in his arms for a serious kiss. She moaned against him and would have more than willingly laid herself down in the front seat for him, but he cheerfully pulled away, and slid out of the car.

"Come on, babe, let's go see what your mom thinks of the car idea," he urged, opening her door for her.

Rita felt a rush of excitement. The thought of getting to have her man _and_ his car at the same time just about blew her mind....


	12. An Argument

**A/N: Ok, this is short and probably not very exciting, but I wanted to play with the relationship between Jack and Rita's mom, see how that feels. I love your feedback! And, btw, next chapter will be a bit, um, sexy...hee-hee.**

**Love you guys, thank you so much for reading and reviewing, you make my day!**

**Seds**

* * *

Rita came tearing into her apartment moments after Gail arrived home from work.

"_Mom, Mom, Mom, MOM! _I need to talk to you about something!" Rita gushed breathlessly as she flung her school bag onto the couch. She was fairly hopping in excitement.

Gail regarded her normally low-key daughter as though she had been replaced by an alien cheerleader from another, more enthusiastic, galaxy.

"Well, sure, honey, what in the world is it?" Gail asked, bewildered, as she pulled off her work shoes and slipped out of her sweater.

"Ok, so you know how you've been trying to save up to buy me a car? And every time you do, something happens and then you have to start all over? But you've still got a couple of hundred bucks stashed away? Well, I found a car I think we could afford!!"

"Oh, really? How much? Where'd you find out about it, and what kind of condition is it in?" asked Mrs. Ryan skeptically.

"It's Mr. J's! I was talking to him downstairs and he says he's thinking about trading it in, but that he'd rather sell it if he could find a buyer pretty quickly--what do you think??"

Gail frowned at her daughter.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. That old beater? Looks like he inherited it from his grandfather, must have a million miles on it. And how much does he want for it?"

"I don't know, but it's in really good shape, Mom. He said he'd be glad to talk about it with you, if you were interested."

"Well, I'm _not_ interested. I can't afford a car for you now, anyway, now that I'm staying off of the night shifts."

"Aw, come on, Mom!! Just talk to him about it, I don't think he wants that much money for it, what could it hurt to _talk?"_

"Rita, for heaven's sake...."

Just then, there came a firm rapping on the door jamb. Both women turned to look, surprised that neither of them had remembered to close and lock the door. Standing in the entrance with one hand raised as though ready to knock again was Jack, eyebrows raised quizzically, a tentative smile on his scarred face.

"Excuse me, ladies, may I have a moment of your time?" he asked respectfully.

"Mr., uh, Jack, hello. My daughter was just telling me about this _plan_ you two have been cooking up."

"Uh...she has?" he asked, stifling an amused snicker. He doubted very seriously that Rita had revealed the _entire _plan to her mother.

"Yes, you want to sell your car and apparently you think I'm made of money, but I regret to inform you that I am not. There's simply no way I can afford a decent vehicle for Rita at this time, and I just wish you wouldn't go around getting her hopes up."

"Oh...Mrs. Ryan...that wasn't my intention at _all!" _Jack entered the living room with seeming hesitation, shaking his head worriedly. "I completely understand how tight money can be for a working mom." Jack regarded Gail with a wounded, but stalwart expression of utter concern and sympathy.

"Gosh, my own mom, God rest her soul, had to work all kinds of crazy hours when I was a kid, just to make ends meet! That's why, when I saw Rita walking home, it occurred to me that she might be interested in my car. I really just want to get a few hundred bucks more for it than what they'd offer me in trade at the dealer's. I certainly didn't mean to cause you any trouble, ma'am, I'm sure sorry if I did. I'll just get out of your hair now..." Jack cast his eyes downward apologetically and, shoulders slumped, turned to leave.

"Wait a minute," said Gail, quickly. "Rita says your car's in good shape, how do I know she's right about that?"

Jack grinned to himself before turning back with an earnest expression.

"Oh, well, I've always done most of the work on it myself, kind of a hobby of mine, but if you wanted to take it to a shop and have 'em look it over, that'd be fine with me. She runs like a top, though, I can tell you that."

"Come on, Mom, why don't we take a drive in it? Ok, Mr. J?"

"Sure. What do you think, Mrs. Ryan?" Jack cast his sincere dark eyes and a tentative grin at the older woman, and she was irritated to find herself blushing. The man was as slick as a greased pig, but there was something about him...dammit, he was the kind of man who could make a woman forget her better judgment.

"Well...I suppose a test drive couldn't hurt anything," she agreed. Jack held the keys out in a tantalizing gesture, pretending to lure her out the door with them, and she jerked them out of his hand on the way, giving him a "no nonsense" look, but she couldn't help smiling to herself as the three of them headed for Jack's car.

* * *

Jack cheerfully took the back seat, while Gail climbed into the driver's side and Rita the passenger side. Gail switched on the ignition and listened critically to the engine. Rita glanced behind her to find that Jack had laid down flat on the rear bench seat and was already preparing to go into nap mode.

"Does it always make that whining noise when it starts up?" Gail asked suspiciously.

"Sure, that's a sign of a high performance vehicle. She'll quiet down as she warms up. Perfectly normal," Jack answered from behind, waving his hand dismissively. Rita turned around and grinned at him; he was peering at her with one open eye and he grinned back.

Gail rolled her eyes, obviously not buying it.

She backed out of the parking lot and they drove around the neighborhood for a little while, then she took them out on the highway.

"It sticks when you go from first to second gear," Gail yelled to the back seat passenger.

"I know! That's why I just go from first to third! Try it, works like a charm!" he yelled back.

Gail shook her head, amused; the guy was a con artist if she ever met one, but he had balls, she had to give him that.

When they returned home, Rita was fully prepared to plunge herself into a state of deep, bitter, and long-term despair, assuming her mother would refuse to even consider buying the car for her daughter, but to her amazement, when they got out, Gail took a critical eye to the exterior of the car and began walking around it, crouching down as she inspected it.

"When's the last time you had the tires rotated?"

"Uh...a few months ago, I think." _Rotated?_ he thought. He usually just drove 'em until they wore out, then stole a nice new set.

"What's _this?" _Gail demanded.

"What's...what?" asked Jack, bewildered, not seeing what Mrs. Ryan was pointing an accusing finger at.

"This! Looks like a pretty sad little repair job on a bent fender."

"Oh, yeah, uh...I think I backed into a dumpster or something." Sheesh. The woman had an eagle eye....

"Hmf. And _this?"_

_"What?"_

"_This!..._this deep _gouge _over here on the side. Looks like someone tried to open it up with a can opener."

"What, that teeny scratch? It's purely cosmetic, a little touch-up paint'll take care of it just fine!" Jack was beginning to wonder if regular access to teen-age pussy was worth all this trouble.

"All right, what do you want for it?" Gail asked, resignedly.

"Seven hundred," he answered firmly.

"Are you _crazy?" _Gail exclaimed. "_Three _hundred would be outrageous!"

Jack almost started laughing; Rita's mom was a damn little firecracker, maybe he was going after the wrong Ryan girl.

"Well, ok, let's say six hundred," he responded fluidly.

"Uh-uh. Four hundred, and that's taking food out of my child's mouth, I want you to know."

"Sorry, it's five hundred or I take it to the dealer. I'm losing money on the deal at that." Jack honestly didn't care about the money, he'd already stolen the new car and had it in the shop getting a paint job and the VIN scraped off the dash, but by now it was the principle of the thing.

"Five hundred dollars! For this pathetic bucket of bolts! I'm sorry, Mr. J, I mean, Jack, that's out of my price range. I'll just be saying good day to you now. Come on, Rita, let's go on upstairs." Rita's eyes were huge and her mouth twisted into pre-break down mode.

Jack shrugged, waved regretfully, and took the lead in heading up to his apartment. The ladies stayed at the foot of the stairs. Jack was tempted to stick around for a few more minutes to watch the fireworks, but he wisely absented himself to allow the wonders of teenage tears to do their work. However, he took his time finding his house key and found he could easily follow the wafting voices raised in argument as the exchange rapidly swung into full flower.

"But, _MOM! _That's a _great_ deal, it's a really good car, and where else am I going to find one at that price!"

"Rita, I just can't afford it right now, I'd have to go back to nights for a month...."

"Ok, so would that be so bad?"

"After what _happened?_ I can't believe you want to risk staying by yourself all night like this!"

"I'll be fine, Mom! How dangerous is it for me to have to walk home from school every day in this neighborhood?"

Etc., etc., etc.

Jack paused, enjoying the escalation into the loud "you don't _love _me! You've _never _loved me!" phase of the argument, and, suppressing a full-blown bout of laughter, he leaned against the wall, savoring the plunge into the pianissimo "please, Mommy? I'll get a job, I swear!" range that signaled the final act. At that point, he cheerfully began humming to himself, and unlocked the door to his apartment. He clicked on the TV and was just settling down with a sandwich when a knock came on the door.

He set the sandwich down, shook himself all over to dispel any last lingering bit of amusement that might play over his face, and opened the door.

"Oh, uh, _hi," _he stammered, greeting Gail Ryan with an expression of perfectly-played surprise.

"All right, Jack. She wore me down. I can give you a check for a hundred dollars now and a hundred a week for the next four weeks, if that will be acceptable." Gail stood tall with dignity as she made her offer.

"Well, yes, _ma'am_, sure! That's fine. Hey, I'm glad we were able to do business! I think you'll like the car, it's...got a lot of character," he said with an slight grin.

"I just hope to heaven it's got five hundred dollars worth of miles in it, yet. Ok, well, I appreciate it." Gail broke into a sincere smile as she handed him the check. In exchange, Jack pulled the car keys off of his chain and handed them to her. Gail accepted them, then gave Jack a questioning look.

"You know, I'll be having to go back to working the late shift for a while--can I count on you to be available if Rita runs into any more trouble, like she did on that terrible night?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be right here...all she has to do is give me a call," he assured the worried mother.

"Well, that's a comfort. You can't imagine how hard it is, raising a girl all on your own in this day and age, and in this awful town! I really appreciate having a good neighbor like you around," Gail said earnestly.

"Glad to help," Jack said with a respectful nod. They smiled at each other and said their goodbyes, and Jack, shaking his head in something like amazement, sat down to eat his sandwich and wonder when, exactly, Gail would make her schedule change.

* * *


	13. Interlude

**A/N: Some naughtiness ensues...thank you everyone for reading, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!! Luvs ya...**

*** * ***

_"_Rita?"

_His hand sliding lightly over her back..._

"Rita Ryan?"

_His warm lips, parted, pressing against her mouth...._

_"Miss Ryan! _Do you plan on joining the rest of us earth-bound creatures in this discussion, or have you already left the planet?"

The voice of Mr. Alvarez, Rita's sixth-period English class teacher, finally broke through the fog of Rita's brain.

"Huh? Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Alvarez, what did you say?"

"Oh, nothing! It's not important. I was just wondering if you, too, would like to comment on the role of women in the Transcendentalist Movement, seeing as how that's the topic of the _essay_ you're supposedly working on? You know, the one that counts for fifty percent of your _grade _this semester?"

"Uh..."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, never mind, don't let me disturb you...." Mr. Alvarez irritably moved on to his next victim, and Rita sank lower in her chair. Her essay. Shoot. She needed to get to work on that. But...it was hard to care about that or any other time-sensitive school work, knowing that tonight was the first night that her mom would be back on the late shift...

A little shudder ran through her, and she pushed her hair out of her eyes, feeling an involuntary grin stealing over her face as she reluctantly tried to follow the class discussion, looking back on something that happened a hundred years ago.

She much preferred looking forward.

* * *

Jack was tinkering with a small prototype of a remote detonator he'd concocted out of spare parts. He didn't have any immediate plans for such a thing, but he thought it might come in handy someday. There was a flaw in it somewhere, and he was beginning to think he'd have to take the whole damn thing apart to find it, when he heard his neighbor's door creak open and slam shut. He grinned; that would be Rita, coming home from school. She got home a lot earlier now that she had her license and a car...still, he knew he wouldn't see her for another few hours. That was ok...they had the whole night ahead of them.

* * *

Gail Ryan gathered her purse, jacket and lunch--or whatever it is you call it when you eat at one o'clock in the morning--and reluctantly hugged her daughter goodbye.

"Rita..."

"Mom, for heaven's sake, I'll be fine! Go, just go, already...."

Gail sighed. She didn't like leaving Rita alone overnight anyway, but after what happened on that awful night....

"Keep the phone right with you at all times..."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know, Mom, I got it. Go!"

Gail nodded and headed out the door. She had to learn to let go, and she had to have some faith in her daughter's common sense. Anyway, Jack was right next door. He was a skinny little bastard, but she saw something fiery in his eyes--and those scars...she was willing to bet he could hold his own in a fist fight. It wouldn't have surprised her to find out that he even owned a gun.

Knowing he would be available made leaving just a little easier.

* * *

Telephone handset in one hand, Rita straightened her thrift-store cowboy shirt, smoothing the tail into her jeans, and tapped on Jack's door; she was trying to keep from grinning like an idiot, but when he answered, nothing could have prevented her from throwing herself into his arms.

"Whoa, there, beautiful!" he chuckled, using the momentum from her propulsion to swing her around, literally sweeping her off her feet. "Isn't it enough you knock me out with your gorgeous blue eyes, do you have to knock me off my feet, too?" he laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just glad to see you..." she replied breathlessly. "I've missed you, Jack..."

"Yeah, me too, babe. Hey, what's with this outfit, Western Day at school? We need to get you some cowboy boots...come on in, have a seat, let's catch up. Did you eat?"

"Uh-huh, Mom and I had dinner...."

"Well, good...you're going to need your strength if you're going to hang around with _me _tonight. I'm just warnin' ya!" he grinned with a very naughty raised eyebrow, wagging a finger at her. "I've been looking forward to this, ya know...."

Rita blushed, but smiled. She was excited, still nervous, but very glad to be with him. She took a seat on his couch and he sat close, right next to her. For a moment, she sat, fidgeting as he gazed appraisingly at her.

"What?" she finally asked, apprehensively.

"I was just thinking of all the stuff I want to do to you," he said, his voice suddenly low and silky. He bit his lower lip reflectively. He'd been patient all these days since the last time, and to have her here, now...he didn't feel like being patient anymore.

"Like...what?"

"Like this...." He nuzzled her under her ear, took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. He was gentle at first, but gradually became more demanding, nipping her lower lip, licking down the line of her throat into the neckline of her shirt. Pushing away the material to reveal her shoulder, he bit into the soft skin he found there, softly at first, then increasing the pressure...running his tongue over the marks he left.

Moving his hands over her body, pulling her closer, leaving her breathless...he listened for, and was rewarded with, first her sighs, then gasps...it was from surprise, he thought, then pleasure...not pain, no, he wouldn't hurt her, he might come close but...ah, ha ha, the way she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, there was no question now, he knew she was ready for this...

"Bite me..." he instructed firmly, and she began tentatively returning his nips, experimenting with how hard she could press her teeth into his flesh and still not hurt him...he tasted slightly salty, strange...mixed with his scent, delicious....

_"Harder_...don't worry babe, you can't hurt me...go ahead, _harder..."_

Rita was amazed when she was able to elicit a deep moan from him, and was more astonished to realize what that moan did to her own arousal. It was exhilarating...it was ...scary.

"Jack..." She was lying on her back, he was on top of her, and she looked up into his smoldering dark eyes--what was she seeing? This wasn't_ her_ Mr. J anymore, it was someone...a _man_, not a boy, no longer an innocuous tease, not her gentle, if strange, playmate, but a _man, _wanting her...demanding her to....

"What, Jack?....What do you want?" she asked suddenly, bewildered.

"I want..._everything," _he said, his voice cracking slightly. "And, I think you're gonna give it to me..." He buried his face in her neck, biting down a line to her breasts, jerking the snaps of her shirt open, pulling her up so he could yank the garment from her back, expertly popping open her bra, pulling it off of her. He stared at her bare breasts, then fondled them, his hands warm, familiar. She shivered down to the bone, and her breath hitched as his fingertips brushed her nipples.

Suddenly, he stood, grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the bedroom.

"Take 'em off," he ordered, gesturing at her jeans as he began taking off his shirt. She hastily complied,

He stripped off his clothes as though they disgusted him. He lay down on the bed, took a condom from the nightstand and put it on. When she approached the bed, naked, he dragged her down next to him and began kissing her, harshly, needfully, he slipped his hand between her legs, searching for her wetness, getting her ready for him, kissing her, kissing her until her lips felt bruised...

Rita took a deep breath, and for just a moment, before he entered her, she looked into his eyes again, feeling a little lost, a little overwhelmed....she put her hands on his bare chest, stopping him, and softly uttered a plea: "Jack...wait". He was breathing heavily, powerfully aroused, wanting, but there was something in her voice...

"What's the matter, kid?" he asked, his voice ragged.

"N-Nothing, it's just..."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"You're scaring me a little..." she whispered, embarrassed.

He paused, looking at her. Well, for fuck's sake. What was he doing? He thought he was being careful, he was going so much slower than he wanted to, but...aw, jeeze, it was just her second time. He needed to pull back, give her some room...he understood that. He lay back, and pulled her into his arms.

"Sorry, babe, I...you're right, I'm being a real asshole...let's take our time, huh? No rush, we've got all night."

"Oh, Jack..." she burrowed into his side, felt herself relax. They lay quietly for a while, he absently ran his hand up and down her arm, then he felt her small hand timidly trace its way down his chest, over his stomach, to his hardness. She lightly stroked him, then grasped, squeezing him inquisitively....

"Ok, I'm getting some mixed messages, here..." Jack said in amusement. He looked down at her, and she smiled up at him. He ran his fingers through her dark hair and tilted her chin up.

"Wanna take another stab at it?" he asked, smiling kindly at her.

Rita nodded.

This time, he made himself go slowly. He took her into his arms, pulling her up on top of him, and, gripping her leg and sliding it over his waist, guided her into a sitting position on his thighs, his erection nestled at her crotch. Jack took her hand and placed it back where it had been before, wordlessly indicating that he wanted her to continue to touch him.

He was letting Rita take control, letting her take her time. She was uncertain at first, but soon leaned forward, raising herself up, and he helped her slide onto his erection.

It was strange and slightly uncomfortable at first, almost too much, but gradually Rita found herself relaxing, daring to take him deeper, soothed by his now-gentle encouragement. He began teaching her to rock up and down, back and forth, to use her hips to grind into him, whatever she wished, and she quickly found her own rhythm. Somehow, she found the right spot for the best friction, rubbing his swollen member against her most sensitive spot.

Later, when he sensed she was at ease, he began thrusting upward. Watching her face, he could see she liked it; he ran his hands over her breasts, over her tummy, down her thighs, pressing hard, wanting more contact...together, they found the right pace, and she became caught up in the give-and-take going on between them until her insides flooded with joyous pleasure and she cried out in release.

"Now we're getting somewhere..." he murmured, pleased. He quickly flipped her onto her back, staying inside, and began rapidly driving himself into her with long, deep strokes, filling her, taking full control while still holding himself back a little. Rita was lying under him, now dreamily lost in the rhythm of his body's demands, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she found that he was staring at her with a burning intensity, making occasional grunts of effort, then groans of pleasure, breathing hard. His orgasm overcame him like a tidal wave, and he seemed to lose the use of his muscles, relaxing into her until his breathing slowed.

Afterward, he let her snuggle up against him even though he would have much preferred to just turn over and go to sleep, but she was so cute, and she felt kind of warm and squirmy against his skin...he found he didn't mind having her there so much, after all. She looked up at him, a grin on her face, and he couldn't help but smile back at her.

"So, what's been going on with you, kid? D'you like the car?"

"Yeah! I love it! It's like...freedom, you know?"

"Mm-hmm. You need wheels in this day and age..." he said absently.

"I know, I'm going to get a job to cover gas and oil, and also start saving for college."

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's good, sweetie, that's real good. You're a smart kid, you'll do great."

"Well, I hope I can get a scholarship...where did you go to college, Jack?"

"College? Oh, God, kid, I never went to college. Hell, I didn't even finish high school..."

"You didn't? How come?" Rita asked, amazed. Mr. J was extremely smart, she assumed he had a college degree, how could he have not finished high school?

"'Cause of these, baby." He gestured at the deep scars that interrupted the smooth lines of his handsome face.

"Oh...what do you mean?" Rita asked, puzzled.

"Well...the whole situation kind of got to me. I...just lost it, you know? Kind of went off the deep end...I ended up spending my senior year of high school in the loony bin, strapped to a bed, straight jacket, electric shock, the whole bit."

"That's..._terrible..._what...what did you, you know, _do? _To get sent to a..."

"Uh...well...it's all kind of hazy now...but apparently I...kind of tried to kill my step-father."

Rita's eyes grew large and she propped herself up on her elbow.

"How?"

"Went after him with a knife, I believe..."

"Oh, my God...."

"They put me in jail at first, but I tried to hang myself, so they sent me off to Crazy Acres."

"Oh, wow...."

They were quiet for a long time, then Rita continued.

"But, you got well, right?"

"Yeah...I'm _fine, _now," he assured her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"That's good," Rita said, sounding slightly worried. He burst out laughing at her discomfiture.

"Really, babe, I'm not gonna go nuts on ya. You don't have to sleep with one eye open..."

She giggled a little at the thought.

They were quiet again, then....

"But, about school...couldn't you have gone back, later?"

"Oh, honey, I was _way_ past the point of giving a shit about school by then...my mom...she took it all pretty hard. She wasn't exactly the picture of stability to begin with and...well, she, you know, she killed herself while I was locked up."

"Oh, no...."

"Yeah..." Jack caught himself. _Why the hell was he telling her this stuff? He'd never told anyone...._

Suddenly, Jack disentangled himself from Rita, and moved over to his side of the bed. She looked at him, concerned.

"Are you ok?" she asked softly.

"Sure, angel. I'm just ready to conk out, you about wore me out! And, we've got to wake up early enough for you to get back in your own little bed so Mommy won't know what shenanigans you've been up to..." His lips were curled into a teasing grin, and she nodded in agreement. Sensing he needed to be left alone, she turned over and settled down to try to sleep, but she found her brain re-running the evening's events, Jack's words, her own feelings...she occasionally checked the clock, hating how time flew by, dreading the moment when the alarm clock would rouse them in the wee hours of the morning.


	14. Homework

_**A/N: Oh, I'm sorry it's been so long. Hope you like the chapter, please let me know what you think!!**_

_**Seds**_

* * *

Lynne was critically observing Rita as she labored over her chemistry homework. She _looked_ like Rita, or, at least, the Rita she had come to be over the last few months. But she definitely wasn't _acting_ like Rita. She was fidgeting impatiently, sighing intermittently, and occasionally making noises of disgust and loathing as she faced each new problem to be solved from Chapter 24 of her Basic Chemistry textbook.

"This is ridiculous!" she finally cried as she slammed her book shut, startling Lynne into spitting out a mouthful of Skittles. A rainbow of damp sugary beads pelted the pale green comforter on the bed where she was sitting in her usual cross-legged pose, attending to her own homework.

"Daaang, Rita! What's the matter with you lately, you're acting bizarre!" Lynne admonished as she reached for something to clean up the mess with. She used the frilly doily her great-grandmother had hand-embroidered. Her mother insisted on covering her nightstand with it, in an attempt to lend a more genteel air to her daughter's messy and chaotic habitat.

"Nothing! It's this idiotic homework, who the heck cares what the chemical compound of hydrochloric acid is! When will I ever need to know what a covalent bond is? This is bullshit!" Rita, sitting on the floor, threw herself onto her stomach, in an outstretched pose of utter frustration and apathy, her head coming to rest on her crossed arms.

Lynne gave her a mildly shocked look. Rita didn't usually use nasty words.

"Hey, language, language! Look, if you're having such a hard time with chemistry, maybe you should get a tutor. There's no shame in that, I had one for biology last year...."

"_Tutor?_" Rita wailed in indignation as she raised her head to glare at Lynne. "And when, exactly, would I have time for that? I already spend two afternoons a week and all day Saturday at the darn Pic-N-Save, I don't want to waste any more time with some dweeb tutor, who breathes through his mouth and goes on about electrons and neutrons like they were his best friends in the whole world...."

Lynne stared at Rita, bewildered. It wasn't so long ago she and Rita considered themselves proud members of the dweeb-ish community, such as it was.

"But, Ritzy, you're going to need some help, you're already barely passing and it's just going to get harder...."

"Oh, great, now you sound like my mom!"

"Oh, _really..." _Lynne stated flatly.

"Yes, really! God, have you always been such a goody-two-shoes?"

"_Goody-two_...wow, Rita, you are _really_ pissing me off." Lynne crawled off her bed and walked out of the room to cool off, muttering something about this being what happens when some people get too big for their britches. She took a deep breath and returned, determined to hold her temper. Rita was obviously going through a bad time, and she was going to have to help her, even if she had to bite her lip _really hard_ to keep from screaming at her.

"Look, I'm just saying, you're going to need good grades to get into any decent school. I'm sorry if I sound like your mom, but it's true," Lynne commented in a calm but chilly voice as she again settled onto her bed.

"So, who cares if I go to stupid college or not?" came a muffled question from Rita, who didn't bother to raise her head this time and instead spoke directly into the carpet.

"Who _cares? _I care! Your mom cares! And, I thought _you_ cared!" Lynne cried, aghast. Practically all she and Rita had talked about for the last year was where they wanted to go to school, what they wanted to major in, and what they wanted to do after they graduated.

Rita looked up and propped her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that," she muttered forebodingly.

"What! What are you talking about?" Lynne again climbed down from her bed and sat next to Rita, trying to look into her eyes. But Rita was staring blankly into the wreckage underneath Lynne's bed.

"I don't know. It all just seems so...unimportant, somehow," Rita said, almost dreamily.

"Unimportant! Just something that will affect the entire rest of your life, and that's unimportant. Huh." Lynne crossed her arms and stared at Rita defiantly, waiting for an explanation. One didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Yeah...I mean, lots of people don't go to college...."

"Right. I see 'em on street corners all the time, they have little signs that say 'will work for food'."

"You know, just because a person doesn't go to college doesn't automatically mean they're going to be homeless...."

Lynne made a noise of frustration and tried again.

"Rita, you're one of the smartest kids in our grade. Why in the world would you give up on college at this point? It's the craziest thing I ever heard."

"Some things...are just more important to me, right now," Rita said, cryptically.

"Like what?"

"Like...you know, getting married. Having a family. I never thought I'd want that, but...."

For a moment, Lynne remained locked in silence. She was beginning to have a creepy feeling about her friend, as if she had some alien worm-creature eating her brain.

"Rita...may I remind you that you don't even have a boyfriend, yet?" Lynne pointed out in an even tone.

Rita gave a sly grin.

"Well...that's not _exactly_ true..." she said.

"HUH?? What the heck do you mean by that?" Lynne demanded.

"Well...Ok. I didn't want to say anything yet, but...I've been seeing someone," Rita confessed, smiling.

"WHO??"

"That doesn't matter...the point is, if I get married, I won't have time for college, and all this miserable chemistry homework is just a giant waste of time."

"_MARRIED!" _Lynne was then rendered speechless after her one-word outburst.

Rita shrugged.

"Of course, it's a little too soon to be thinking about things like that, but, you know, I've got a feeling...."

Now, Lynne lay flat on the floor on her stomach as well, also staring under her bed, utterly bewildered.

"You've been dating someone without telling me?"

"Well...I just wasn't ready to talk about it for a while. I kind of had a crush on him and I didn't think he'd ever....I mean, nothing was really happening, it was all kind of one-sided. But now...."

A sudden gritty realization hit Lynne in the gut, and she grabbed Rita's face with both hands, forcing her to look at her.

"Wait a minute...have you...been having..._sex?" _Lynne asked in a hushed tone.

"Uh..."

"Oh, my God, Rita! How could you do that without telling me?" As shocked as she was at the revelation, Lynne was far more hurt at being left out of Rita's confidence.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to get your permission?"

"No! I just mean...I thought that was something we'd, you know, discuss. First. Or, soon afterwards. Who is he? Where did you meet him? How long has this been going on? Come on, you've gotta tell me!"

"It hasn't been going on that long! I just...decided it was something I wanted to do, you know, now that I've found the right guy. And...it was great! You should try it," Rita added with a mischievous grin.

"Ugh. No, thanks. Not with any of the morons in _our_ school."

"Well, exactly. That's why...well, he's not from our school."

Lynne stared angrily at Rita. Not from their school! Who in the world....

"Marguerite Nicole Ryan, you tell me who this guy is right now, or I will rip every single hair right out of your head, do you understand me?"

"Oh, stop it! Don't be such a drama queen!"

"Rita! I'm your best friend in the world, why won't you tell me?" Lynne was beginning to get really upset.

"Because you'll freak out."

A horrible thought crept into Lynne's mind.

"Freak..._out?...._Oh. Oh, my God. It's _him_, isn't it? It's that...that weirdo neighbor of yours, Mr. J, right? _Right? _I knew it! I _knew_ you had a crush on him!"

Rita rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disgust.

"It's not a crush when it's a mature relationship...."

Lynne's eyes grew wide.

"Oh...My...God...Rita, you mean...oh, man. You mean, you've been having sex with..._him?"_

"See! I knew you'd freak out..." Rita was a little disturbed at revealing her secret, but at the same time, relieved.

"Oh, no, you couldn't...but you did! You've been having sex with a _pedophile! _Oh, my God, this is outrageous!" Lynne sat upright, looking as though she was on the verge of a melt-down.

"Oh, good Lord, he's not a pedophile! I'm not a little kid, and he's not an old man! You know, in some countries we'd both be old maids by now, you and me! Just calm down, everything's fine!" Rita assured her friend.

"Does your mother know?"

"No! Of course not. She wouldn't understand, and I'm beginning to think you don't either." Rita pulled herself to her feet and started gathering her things.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

"I'm going home! There's no point in trying to talk to you if you're just going to go all judgmental on me."

"Wait, Rita! Don't go, I'm not being judgmental! I'm just scared for you, is all. Come on, sit down and tell me what's been going on." Lynne gave Rita a pleading look, and Rita relented, dropping to the floor to sit next to her best friend again.

"Ok, but you have to swear on your life that you won't tell anyone."

"Rita..."

"Either you swear, or I never tell you anything ever again in my entire life. _Ever."_

"Aughhh, ok! I _swear...."_

"Ok. Well...we've been seeing each other, that's all."

"And having sex!"

"Yeah, ok, a couple of times...."

Lynne stopped her gnashing of teeth and let the reality of the situation sink in for a moment.

"What was it like?" Lynne asked, suddenly fascinated.

"It was...wonderful," Rita sighed. "_He's_...wonderful. I just...you know, I've never felt like this about anyone, I..."

"Oh, my God, don't say it..."

"I think..."

"Do not say it!"

"I think...I think I love him, Lynne."

Lynne gave a wail of exasperation.

"Oh, you do _not! _He's creepy and weird, and he's going to end up carving you into a million little pieces and burying you in the vacant lot next door!"

"Ok, end of conversation...."

"Rita, listen to me. It's not just that he's a grown man, it's something about him...I don't think he's right in the _head."_

Rita heard Jack's words..."Don't worry, I'm not gonna go _nuts_ on ya!" and felt a little shiver. She shrugged it off.

"He's not crazy, Lynne. He's a sweet, wonderful person and I really care about him. Ok, maybe I'm letting this get to me a little too much. You're right, I need to concentrate on getting into college. I've been daydreaming too much...I-I need to snap out of it. But, I can't help it, I want to stop being sensible for just a little while! I want to have fun, I want to be in love! Can't you understand that?"

Lynne slowly shook her head from side to side.

"No. I can't. I can't believe you're willing to...to throw away your future for this...this weird _guy_. Has he _said_ anything about marriage?"

"No! Of course not. We just started...seeing each other. But, honestly, I can see it happening, you know, someday, maybe...."

"Oh sure, he's Prince Charming and he's going to sweep you off your feet and take you to a life of leisure in his third floor walk-up..."

"No, that's not what I mean..."

"Rita, even if he's not technically a pedophile, don't you think it's possible that he's a plain, garden-variety jerk? You know, one who takes advantage of stupid young ladies such as yourself and then leaves them, broken-hearted and pregnant?"

"_Preg_...no way, we're being very careful about that. Very careful. And...he wouldn't take advantage of me, he cares about me! I know he does, I can tell."

"How?"

"By the way he treats me, the way he talks to me...he wouldn't hurt me. I know that. Lynne...when I'm with him...I'm _happy. _Really happy! Isn't that what life's supposed to be about?"

Lynne just continued to shake her head in dismay. She pulled herself to her feet and sat on the edge of her bed.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, Ritzy. I don't want you to, you know, screw up your whole life because some crazy guy gets you to fall in love with him and forget everything you planned to do with your future. But..." she sighed heavily, "if you're going to keep seeing him, I wish you'd talk to me about it. Maybe I can lead the bloodhounds to the right ravine when we're searching for your body."

"Uh...yeah, well, thanks for the support. I'm not stupid, Lynne. I know what I'm doing! And, I promise you--Mr. J--_Jack_--isn't going to ruin my life. I know that."

"Yeah. Sure. Ok....well, let's get back to homework, huh?"

"Yeah. Back to homework."

The girls stared at each other pensively for a moment, then Lynne smiled ruefully before scooting back into her homework position at the head of her bed.

Rita reclaimed the hated chemistry text and the two silently continued with their assignments, Rita feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her back, and Lynne feeling as if one had been thrown directly into her heart.

* * *

The Joker leaned against a brick wall inside of the old abandoned laundry he had broken into. He had chosen it for it's excellent concealment features and also because of its proximity to his unfortunate target for the evening. He glanced around the shambles left by the previous occupants, and swiped at the greasepaint on his nose with his leather-gloved finger. Damn makeup _itched_, sometimes.

It was _boring_ as hell there, but the perfect place to position himself in as he waited for Rocky G. to come out of the old apartment building across the street. He had disappeared into it forty-five minutes ago, with his lady-friend on his arm. The Joker rolled his eyes impatiently as he glanced at a clock on the facade of the bank on the corner--jeeze, how long does a roll in the hay take these days, he thought irritably.

This guy getting laid was putting a crimp in his own plans for said activity, and _his _little squeeze wasn't a forty-five year old, dyed-blonde, ex-stripper, either, not that there was anything wrong with that. But, it did seem that if your mob-connected brother-in-law was going to put a hit out on ya for screwin' around on his sister, you might as well go for something cute and hot in the sack, right?

But, who knows, maybe he loves her, you know? Who's to say why people do what they do. Maybe he's known her forever and wishes he had married _her _instead of...the Joker's musings were cut short when, just then, the object of his evening's business came out of the brownstone and headed for his car, a cheeful smile on his face. The Joker stepped to the door, opened it a crack and took aim--he liked a nice automatic rifle with a silencer on it for this type of thing--and dropped the guy to the sidewalk, just before he stepped around the vehicle to the driver's side.

The Joker curled his lips in a sneer of disgust. This was too fucking easy, absolutely no challenge whatsoever. He ought to be ashamed of himself, had he no sense of pride in his work anymore? But damn, the money was so good...oh, well. It wasn't his fault the shit-head had no better sense than to sneak around on his wife with someone who lived on a street that the cops couldn't be bothered with. Speaking of which, he glanced around carefully, making sure there was still no one on the street at that moment. Nope, all clear.

He strode up to the body with his gun under his arm, his dagger in one hand and a plastic baggy in the other. He leaned down and slipped the knife across the guy's ear, deftly removing it, and dropped it in the bag, shaking his head scornfully. Damn Italians. Such sticklers for tradition....He placed the baggy in his coat pocket and ambled off to his new car, headed for a meeting with the guy--what was his name, again? Oh, yeah, Maroni...thinks he's going to be the next big thing in the Falcone crime family, ha ha. Oh well, stranger things have happened, he supposed.

Whistling tunelessly, the Joker drove into the night, looking forward to finishing his work and returning home. He had a date tonight.

* * *


	15. A Lovely Gift

**A/N: Hello, hello! This is just a quick, short chapter--just for the LOLs...more angsty stuff coming next time, hope you enjoy! Thank you so much to everyone for the reviews, and thank you for reading!!!**

**Seds**

* * *

Bruce Wayne, the dark-haired, dark-eyed billionaire, was sitting on the living room couch staring at the invitation to the Wayne Foundation charity dinner taking place that night. He sighed heavily. It had completely slipped his mind.

He pondered the upcoming evening's dilemma with disgust. His annoyance was, on the surface, aimed at the mysterious external forces that seemed to constantly conspire to thwart him from doing what he wanted to do. He was quite good at assigning blame to things--other people, circumstances beyond his control, and, honestly, it was true--so many expectations, so many demands on his time...but, in reality, he was just put out with himself.

It was funny--this big event that he was ostensibly responsible for had had absolutely nothing to do with him, other than giving his approval for it's existence months ago. Things like this went on all the time, with nothing more required of him than a signature and a couple of hours out of his life. Had it not been for the fact that he had put himself on his own mailing list, he would have forgotten all about it. He wouldn't have even remembered which particular charity this one was _for._

But, it mattered. It mattered a whole lot to a bunch of South American orphans, and it mattered to a large group of Gotham City's charitable do-gooders. And, because of all that, he supposed, it mattered to _him, _or at least, it _should_.

He was just about to enter phase two of self-recrimination and mental flagellation when Alfred Pennyworth, his butler, walked in to pick up Master Wayne's used coffee cup and saucer. The older gentleman stopped short upon seeing his employer's expression of distress, and softly cleared his throat to get the man's attention.

"Something wrong, Master Wayne?"

"Oh, I did something stupid. Again."

"What's that, sir?"

"It seems I've gotten myself _two_ dates for tonight." How in the world he thought he would be able to accomplish anything in the world of crime fighting when he couldn't even keep a simple social calendar straight was beyond him.

"Seems to me you've done that before, sir, and quite on purpose."

"Yeah, well, this isn't like that. There are...business implications, in this particular situation, lots of money at stake. International implications, too."

"Good heavens. Sounds like quite a complex problem. Why don't you give me a rundown, perhaps that will help you sort it out?"

"Ok. I made a date with Catherine Matorina, the Russian supermodel, about a month ago. This is the only time she'll be in this area, and she's leaving tomorrow. If I blow her off, not only she, but the Russian industrialist sponsoring her trip, will be pissed, and who knows what reverberations that will have." Bruce tossed the invitation onto the coffee table and pursed his lips in thought.

"Then, last week, forgetting all about Catherine and this stupid dinner, I asked Celeste, Ted Broder's executive assistant, to go to out with me _tonight_. I'm about to meet with him on Monday to hear a proposal for a partnership involving his tech company, and I need to know what kind of man I'm dealing with. So, I not only need to get some, uh, _quiet_ time with Celeste so I can get the inside scoop, but I can't afford to piss _her_ off either, or I'll lose a valuable resource for the future."

Bruce shifted in his seat and looked up at the gray-haired man.

"So, there you have it, what do you advise?"

"See them both tonight."

"Both?"

"Certainly, sir. Take the supermodel to the dinner and be your usual utterly charming and delightful self. I'll call you at, say, nine o'clock, and you can tell her an emergency has arisen, and that you have to leave. You can send her a lovely thank you gift afterward, and I'm sure she'll graciously forgive you." The butler stared up to the ceiling in thought.

"In the meanwhile, you can tell the executive assistant that something terribly urgent came up and plead with her to meet you at nine-thirty for a drink, all the while being your most adorable and apologetic self, and parlay that into an evening of romance. A marvelous gift will be in order there as well, I would think."

"Jewelry?"

"Lingerie. That will show you were thinking of her _ahead _of time, offer a softer, more, oh, _personalized_ touch. She'll feel wonderful, and be in a far more forgiving--and talkative--mood, I would imagine. But, that's just a suggestion, sir."

"Mmm, I think you're right."

"Shall I go out and pick up something?"

"No, no, I have to go out anyway, and if I'm going to pretend to care what she thinks, I should probably at least put that much thought into it, myself. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Of course, sir. I'll have your tux ready for you by the time you get back."

"Perfect. See you later, Alfred."

Bruce gathered his keys and wallet, and, feeling slightly less doomed, headed out to the lingerie store.

* * *

Bruce parked, casually strolled into the lingerie shop and was immediately besieged by three eager sales girls.

"What can I show you, Mr. Wayne?" asked a particularly buxom brunette, making a point of pushing her breasts forward.

"Ah...nothing, right now," Bruce grinned, appreciating the multiple choice offer. "I'd just like to look around for a bit, if that's all right?"

"Of course! If you need _anything, _anything at all...just...whistle." The cute girl winked seductively, and led her cohorts away to allow Bruce to shop in peace. The customer service in this store was excellent--they even knew when to leave you alone.

He sauntered to the camisole display and was a bit irritated to find a tall, slender young man with long, wavy blond hair and terrible facial scarring standing right where he wanted to browse.

The man turned to him with a puzzled frown.

"Hey, pal, you know anything about these damn slingshots? What the hell does this do?"

He picked up one of the more outrageous undergarments and held it up gingerly.

Bruce was not unfamiliar with such things, but he certainly didn't care to get into a discussion over their more unique features, especially with another man. However, he didn't want to be rude.

"Uh...I think _that _wraps around _there_, and snaps _there. _It's supposed to, um, provide support..."

"For tits?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Well, thanks. I never looked at this crazy stuff before, I gotta tell ya, most of the gals I date don't bother with underwear in the first place, heh heh...."

"I...can imagine."

"Yeah...but I've got this real cute girl I want to get somethin' _nice _for, you know, knock her socks off with somethin' special. Nothin' sleazy, you know? Say...you look like a classy guy, what would _you_ recommend? 'Course, I'm assuming yer not shopping for your_self_, right?"

"My..._self_? " Bruce was too stunned at the suggestion to be properly offended.

"Yeah, you know, you're not one of them cross-dressers or something, are ya? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but, listen, in this place? You're not gonna find anything in your _size_..." The blond man winked lasciviously, and chuckled to himself.

"Uh, no, no, it's for a girl...." Bruce assured his unwelcome inquisitor. He began looking around for a graceful way out of this uncomfortable conversation. Perhaps he could fake a coughing fit and go in search of a nice gender-neutral drink of water.

"Yeeeah, right, I knew that," Jack agreed dismissively, with a mock still-suspicious quirk of the eyebrow and a nasty, knowing grin.

Bruce really hated this guy. But he was aware that their exchange was being observed by the giggling corps of salesgirls, all of whom knew very well that he was Bruce Wayne, and he didn't want a trashy news piece to show up in the tabloids describing his rudeness to a complete stranger. He didn't intend to tarnish his hard-won image as a "nice guy".

So, he valiantly put aside his desire to punch the irritating little jerk right in the nose, and forced himself to consider the man's dreadful choice of gift.

"Well, to be honest, that one's a little, um, risque."

"It is?"

"Well, yes. Probably appropriate for, you know, an exotic dancer or cocktail waitress or some such thing....are you sure your girl will appreciate that? Since you're trying to get her something...'classy'?"

"What do you mean?" The man stared at Bruce with intense, dark eyes.

"I mean...she might be offended to think that you...consider her to be...uh..."

"A slut?"

"Well...yes."

"Huh, I never thought of that. Ok, what would _you_ pick?"

"How about this?" Bruce held up a simple white camisole with a row of little satin bows decorating the front.

"You're kidding. I want to get her into bed, not a nunnery."

"Ok, something a little more...sexy? How about this?"

"This" was a black teddy with garters, puffy sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline.

"Naw, she's not seventy! Hey, how about this one?"

Jack held up a raucous red and black number with lace insets where the nipples would go.

Bruce was getting frustrated. How had he gotten himself into this situation?

"That...is terrible, look, maybe a sales girl could help...."

"Oh, God, no, I just shooed away about fifty of 'em, I don't need the distraction. Look, what would you choose for _your_ girl?"

Bruce sighed, critically surveying the display, but it only took a moment for him to spot just the right thing. Maybe the creep would go away if he solved his problem for him....

"This."

Bruce held up a lovely black silk camisole with spaghetti straps, lace trim, and tiny flowers embroidered along the top.

"Aw, yeah! I see what you mean--classy, but sexy. Very good eye, big guy! I'll take it!" The skinny fellow in the tweed sport jacket smiled broadly, pulled the garment out of Bruce's hands and with a grateful nod of thanks, turned and headed toward the front counter.

Bruce watched him effortlessly charm the girls at the checkout as he accepted their offer of free gift wrap. He then took his purchase under his arm, and, whistling tunelessly, shambled out the door, apparently without a care in the world and a hot date on his mind.

Bruce shook his head with something like envy and turned back to the camisoles. It only took a brief shuffle through the stack of carefully folded items for Bruce to discover a simple, indisputable fact.

_Dammit. _

The weird guy had taken the last one in that size.

* * *


	16. Way To Kill The Mood

**A/N: Little bit of sexy stuff, and some violence in this one! Just so you know...thank you for all the wonderful reviews, and thank you so much for reading!**

**Seds**

* * *

Jack knocked at Rita's door with flowers and the gift-wrapped present he had bought for her in hand. He had watched Gail depart for work, and decided it would be fun to ravish her daughter in the teen's very own girly bedroom for a change. Rita opened the door, and her eyes widened in delight and surprise.

"Jack! I thought I was going over to your place! What's all this?" she asked, immediately distracted by the colorful flowers and elegantly-wrapped package.

"Yeah, baby, I just thought we'd shake things up a little!" He put the present and bouquet in Rita's hands, took her chin and pressed a warm kiss on her soft lips. He grinned and whispered in her ear, "I wanna do you in that funky bedroom of yours, I'm nuts for the pink wallpaper and purple unicorns...."

"Oh, Jack, you're so silly," she giggled. "These flowers are gorgeous! And, what's this?"

"It's for you, sugar bear! Go ahead, open it...."

Rita looked at him excitedly and carefully laid the flowers on the coffee table. She then sat down on the couch, and began gingerly removing the wrapping paper.

"I'm sorry to be so slow, but it's so pretty, I hate to tear it up..." she said apologetically.

"That's ok, sweetie, take your time." Jack sat down next to her, watching, pleased at her girlish delight. It had been a long time since he'd bothered to give anyone a gift and he'd forgotten how much fun it could be just to see their reaction.

Rita read the name of the store on the box and glanced up at Jack, her mouth open in surprise. She had often window-shopped there, but never even had the courage to go inside, much less make a purchase. She pulled the garment out of the box and stared at it, apparently bewildered.

Jack's face tensed as he watched her. For some reason, he began feeling oddly apprehensive. _Shit, what if she doesn't like it? _he thought darkly. She _better _like it. If she didn't, he'd personally track down that big cream-puff guy from the underwear store, and give him a little hell for steering him in the wrong direction. Yeah, he was bigger, but nothing a little crowbar action couldn't even out nicely....

Rita had never had a piece of clothing so..._beautiful_, before. It felt deliciously silky and delicate in her hands, the color was dramatic, and the style, breathtakingly sexy. She took in the romantic lace touches, the hand stitching of the embroidery. It even _smelled_ incredible; a faint rose scent wafted from the feathery silk fabric.

Rita looked at her companion, who was carefully observing her.

"Oh, Jack..." she gasped. "This is..._amazing_. Absolutely gorgeous! It's really for _me?" _she asked in delight.

A slow smile stole over Jack's face as he relaxed, relieved.

"Well, sure, babe! I saw it and thought it'd look real good on you. Hey, go put it on, will ya?"

Rita hopped up and eagerly headed to her bedroom. He sauntered behind her and stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands shoved into his pockets. He felt a definite stirring in his trousers as Rita slipped out of her t-shirt and bra, and wriggled into the deliciously silky-smooth camisole.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed, looking in the mirror.

"That it _is," _Jack said, somewhere between a growl and a purr.

He came up behind her and pulled her to him. They watched themselves in the mirror as his hands slid sensuously up from her small waist and then over the rise of her full breasts, where he paused to gently cup and squeeze lovingly.

He buried his face in her neck as his hands then wandered down to the button of her jeans, and he undid them for her, pulling them down low on her hips, revealing her pale pastel green undies with little pink and orange butterflies on them.

"Oh, shit," he grinned as they were revealed. "That's cute. I was thinking I shoulda bought you some panties to go with this, but I couldn't improve on _these _in a million years..." he snickered softly.

Rita didn't really get the joke, but she smiled happily before turning and giving him a tight hug.

"I've never had anything this nice before...thank you so much, I love it, I love it...."

"Yeah, it's a shame you're gonna have to take it off pretty soon!" he laughed as he wrapped her in his arms.

"I will?"

"Well...good point, maybe not right away...."

He kissed her deeply, working at getting her jeans further down her legs.

It wasn't long before the pair were enthusiastically engaged in what they had both been looking forward to for several days, and the frame of Rita's beat-up old bed was being shaken harder than it ever had been in all the years she'd slept in it.

Neither could quite drop off to sleep, preferring instead to chat and cuddle and explore each other's bodies, and at half past midnight, they eagerly prepared to make love again. Before they could get started, and much to Jack's annoyance and Rita's distress, the phone rang. She quickly scrabbled around on her nightstand, trying to grab the handset before the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly, worried it might be a problem with her mom. But she immediately clicked the phone off and set it back on the nightstand. She looked at Jack.

"No one there," she said uncertainly.

Jack picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID--"Unknown" was all it said.

"Did you hear anything? Breathing, or something?"

"No. It was probably just a wrong number this time...."

"Yeah...probably. Boy, way to kill the mood, anonymous caller...." Jack said idly. Rita giggled, and shifted around until she was snug in his arms. They lay there like that for a while, then Jack announced, "I gotta hit the can, baby. Keep warm for me, we'll pick up where we left off, huh?" Rita nodded, amused, and enjoyed watching Jack stroll off naked to the bathroom in the hall.

Rita decided to get something to drink, and slipped on her flannel house robe, a stark contrast to the fine quality of the silk camisole now carefully hung over the back of her desk chair, and she took a moment to again run her fingers over the soft cloth and smile to herself before heading to the kitchen.

* * *

Charlie Oswald sat in his car, nervously chewing a hangnail as he flipped his cell phone closed. Gail had left and the damn girl was there. Well, all right. He was sick of this, sick of being ignored. Gail had gone too far this time. Not only had she changed her work schedule yet _again_, she had once again left that stupid kid of hers alone in the apartment. He fingered the rope he'd brought, along with the duct tape. He wasn't sure which he'd use, maybe he'd need both. He'd never done this before.

Yeah...._How the hell was he to prepare for a romantic night with Gail when the fucking kid was there? _He could see her through the kitchen window, such a little bitch, thinking she was better than he, hanging up the phone on him all the time.

He slung back another mouthful of cheap whiskey and wiped his mouth irritably. The crack he'd smoked earlier was buzzing in his brain, and he was feeling antsy; the whiskey was supposed to help him settle down, but his mind just kept running the same images over and over again. Gail in her nurse's uniform....Gail, talking to him, that warm Southern drawl, that beautiful smile...her eyes...he'd caught her sneaking a peek at him when he was changing into the hospital gown, ha ha...Gail, taking such good care of him when he was sick, but now...it was as if she didn't even know him! How could she betray him this way? Abandoning him, just like everybody else....

And that girl...flouncing in and out of that apartment like she owned the world, like she was the only one Gail cared about. As long as she was around, Gail would never think of him the way he wanted her to..._needed_ her to. The girl was in the way. If only he could get her out of the picture, Gail could clear her mind. Sure, she'd be sad for a while, but he'd be there for her...she'd see him, finally _see _him! See..._him_....

Charlie thrust his hand in his coat pocket and caressed his gun for the hundredth time that evening. It was wonderful, the power a gun gave you. Life and death, life and death, and you held it all in your hands when you had a gun....Suddenly, he felt a raw, gnawing urge and he fumbled in his glove box and found his pipe, loaded the last little bit of rock he had left, and smoked it up.

He was almost feeling good again. He almost felt like things were looking up. He opened his phone, thought of punching in the number, wishing he could hear Gail's warm, loving tone, but he knew all he'd get would be the girl's stupid, whiney voice. He clapped the phone shut, and shook his head in determination.

This had to stop. It was time he did something positive, did something to bring him and Gail together, as they were meant to be. He had to take control of the situation...he had to _do_ it...tonight.

* * *

The lovers were back in bed, making out intently. Jack had just reclaimed his position on top of Rita, was preparing to enter her, when something clattered in the kitchen. Jack immediately rolled off his lover and grabbed his pants from off the floor, when the bedroom door was flung open, and a wild-eyed man with a gun in his hand entered the room.

"Fuck..." Jack muttered, recognizing Charlie. He should have known that lousy little creep would turn up sooner or later, damn it...he should have taken care of this before. Rita's scream disturbed his thoughts, and he patted her absently on the leg, making a shushing sound.

Charlie stared, bewildered, first at the girl, then at the man in the bed. His fuzzy mind was whirling, he'd seen this guy before, where had he seen him? Those scars...suddenly, a tiny bit of light shone into the cluttered, drug-muddled mind and he remembered.

_"Joker!" _he exclaimed with a gasp. He'd never seen him without the greasepaint, but there was no mistaking those scars....

"Charlie..." Jack responded calmly. "What brings you to this part of town, I didn't think the sewer made a stop in this neighborhood?"

"Jack...." Rita said in a small, terrified voice. "You know him?" she whispered.

"Yeah, babe, don't worry, this'll all be over real quick," he assured her gently as he shifted his weight on the bed.

"_Over? _You think it'll be over? Oh, no, man, it's just beginning!" The gunman cackled as he proudly waved the weapon at the couple. "See this, Joker? See it? This is what puts _me_ in charge for a change!" The man gave another maniacal laugh, unable to believe his good luck.

Not only would he take care of the girl, he could finally take revenge on the man--that _freak_--who'd caused him so much humiliation, misery and terror...he never thought it would happen, as many times as he'd dreamed of it, but he knew very well that he'd never have the courage to seek him out and do anything about it...and now, here he was, in the flesh... oh, yeah, this was _definitely_ going to be his night!

"Really, Charlie? Why don't you tell me what it is that's beginning. Go ahead...tell me." Jack spoke in a silky, calm, almost hypnotic voice. Rita was desperate to do something, anything, but Jack seemed completely content to lie there naked, holding his trousers.

the Joker's calm tone infuriated Charlie. The bastard was always so smug, so "in charge"....he'd show him. He'd show him what it was like to be scared....

"Shut up, _shut up! _Drop those clothes, you freak, put your hands where I can see 'em..." commanded the gunman, gaining confidence as he yelled.

"Sure, Chuckie. No problem. Keep your voice down, though, huh? People are trying to sleep...." Jack did as he was instructed, holding his empty hands in the air.

Rita had begun to cry.

"What do you want?" she asked pleadingly.

"Shhh, darling, let Uncle J handle this...." Jack spoke smoothly without breaking his gaze from the gunman's eyes.

"I said, _shut up! _I'll tell you what I want, _darling, _I want never to hear your stupid voice on the phone again! I want you out of Gail's life, once and for all! And, as a bonus, I want to put a couple of bullet holes in your sick, freak boyfriend there!" Another demented cackle rolled out of the drug-addled man.

"Chuuuckie...put the gun down. You don't look so good, old boy, I think you need to sit down. Here, let me get you a chair..." Jack made as if to stand, innocuously putting one hand behind him to propel himself forward. Charlie, enraged at the condescending tone, missed the lightening fast move of Jack's hand under his pillow.

"Don't..._fucking..._move!" screamed Charlie. He raised the gun, aiming first at Jack, then at Rita as he tried to decide who to hit first.

Something hit Rita viciously hard in her shoulder a fraction of a second before she heard a loud blast, a whistle of something zipping past her head, and a woody noise as a small hole was opened low in her headboard, right where her head had been. The pain in her shoulder quickly dissipated, replaced by the pain from her tailbone as she landed flat on the floor. She then heard a creak of the bedsprings followed by a strangled gasp, and then a dull thud coming from the doorway.

Shivering with cold, her mind shut down with panic, Rita peeked fearfully under the bed and was shocked to see Charlie looking back at her. But his eyes had no light in them and the hand holding the gun was slack; she raised her head as she heard a shift of weight on the bed and she saw Jack stand, stroll over to the body, and crouch down to check for a pulse.

Rita scrambled to her feet and stared blankly at the still body of Charlie Oswald slumped lifelessly on the floor.

"J-Jack? What...what happened? What did you..._do?"_ she gasped hesitantly.

"Well, come'ere, I'll show ya..." he offered. Rita approached slowly. Jack pulled back on Charlie's shoulder, and she could see a dagger sticking out of the man's throat, neatly severing his windpipe.

"How...how did you..."

"I threw it! Old carny knife trick I picked up somewhere. Pretty accurate, huh? Nice to know I haven't lost my touch. Say, doll, you got an old sheet or shower curtain or something?"

"What...what for? What are we going to do? How did you know him?" Rita pleaded worriedly.

"Oh, I used to volunteer down at the soup kitchen, he was a regular...." Looking away, Jack rolled his eyes in amusement.

"Shouldn't we call 9-1-1?"

"Uh, for what? He's not gonna get any better, sweetheart! No CPR for him...."

"But, Jack, we should call the police! He broke in here, he had a gun...."

"Yeah...but, do you really want to have to explain to them what I was doing in your bed? You're underage, remember? And, what about your _mom? _What'll _she _think when she hears you let me do you in your own little bed? She might be kinda _disappointed_ in ya, huh? And, boy, wouldn't she be mad at me! She might decide to prosecute me for statutory rape, and that would be a real bad deal for ol' Jack, right? So...whaddaya think? Should we call 'em?"

"But what will we _do?" _she asked in distress.

"Like I said, get me a sheet or blanket or something. Come on, babe, we need to hurry."

Woodenly, Rita found an old sheet from her closet. Jack had slipped on his clothes, and he indicated Rita should do the same as he took the sheet from her.

Rita dressed as she watched Jack wrap the body, as well as the gun, in the sheet. Once he was done, he reached down, pulled the knife from the dead gunman's throat and wiped the blood on the man's own shirt. Only a little trickle had seeped from the opening; she supposed the blade had staunched the wound, preventing copious bleeding as long as it was inserted. Jack stuck the dagger down into his sock and gestured for Rita to help him.

"Give me a hand, sugar, we'll get him down to the car and I'll take care of him from there."

"Oh, my God," Rita said woefully as she helped Jack get the body hoisted in the air so he could sling him over his shoulder. She scurried ahead of him and opened each door as they made their way down the stairs.

"Say, can you fish my keys out of my pocket? I'm kind of, uh, loaded down, here..."

"Ok," she said, almost in tears as she opened the trunk for him. "Oh, Jack, what if someone catches us?"

"They won't, baby. No one's around. Now, you stay here. Go back upstairs, I'll be back soon."

He kissed her cheek and she watched him pull out of the parking lot with his terrible cargo.

Alone, Rita trudged back up to her apartment. Once she shut the door behind her, she collapsed into tears.


	17. The Joker

**A/N: Hello there, all apologies for taking so long to get an update posted. Well, we are nearing the end! This is the next-to-last chapter, just so you know. I'm sorry it's short, but I didn't want to wait any longer to get something up for you....**

*** * ***

Rita numbly found her way back to her room. She opened the door slowly--her imagination was working overtime and a thought flashed into her mind--what if that horrible moment was frozen in time? What if she opened the door and saw Jack, naked on the bed, one hand still poised in the air after flinging the dagger, and herself, toppled off the edge after Jack's violent shove, and Charlie...dead on the floor, his blank eyes staring uselessly at her...what if that image was burned into the fabric of time, forever? What if she could never sleep in her own bedroom again?

Oh, she knew better. She stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene. Other than the rumpled bedclothes falling onto the floor, there was no indication that anything unusual had taken place in the small room, not a single drop of blood. And Jack had taken away the body...the body of the man he had _killed_...oh, God! A _life _had been taken, just a few feet from her...by the man she loved, adored, desired more than anything else in the world. _How_...how could he _do _it?

But, Mr. J hadn't done anything wrong! He _saved_ her...that awful man tried to kill her, was going to kill them _both_, all Jack had done was to protect her and defend himself. There was no reason to fear the police--they could have come up with a story to explain his presence in her bedroom. Why had he been so determined to avoid calling 911?

And, how did he know the would-be murderer? They _definitely_ knew each other...and the criminal had called Jack a "freak"--his voice had been dripping with hatred. How did they know each other? And...why had he called him _"Joker"??_

Rita's mind was whirling in confusion caused by stress, trauma and a lack of sleep. She would have loved to lie down--preferably in Jack's warm arms--and drift off, to forget that any of this had happened, but there was no way she could relax until Jack came back and answered her questions. She crawled up on her bed and pulled the pillow away from the headboard, revealing the bullet hole. Until she saw that, she was almost soothing herself into thinking it had all been a dream, but there it was--the incontrovertible evidence.

_She had almost been killed. _Jack had pushed her off the bed a split second before the bullet blew through her head. Wrapping her mind around that realization made her feel a little dizzy and she sat on the edge of her bed, pressing her hands against her temples.

She desperately wished Jack would return.

* * *

The Joker took the body back to his headquarters and ordered one of his henchmen to dispose of it; the directive was met with unquestioning obedience, and he watched as the body was transferred from the trunk of his car to the back of a van, which immediately sped off towards the river. He sighed. He might as well stay here, all things considered. Rita had probably wrestled with her conscience for a bit, then called the cops. If he went back to the apartment, he'd be picked up for questioning, they'd start putting two and two together and he'd be left looking like a fucking idiot.

He wasn't concerned about jail, or even prison--he knew they'd never keep him locked up for long. He knew there was no concrete evidence to connect him with any crime, oh, not yet, anyway. But soon...soon, he'd be making a big splash, they'd come to know his face well enough.

It was just the _interruption_ he resented_. _

The Joker could adapt to whatever inconveniences came his way, but he damn sure didn't like having his plans derailed because of a stupid mistake. Well, a series of stupid mistakes, the first one being that he had allowed himself to get so sidetracked by the girl that he had failed to pay attention. Somehow, he had overlooked the fact that that moron Oswald had a thing for Gail, knowing that he was a psychopathic threat, albeit a weak one.

He should have taken care of him on his own turf, not let him crawl into Rita's apartment and scare the poor kid half to death. She wasn't used to such things, and she'd really been terrified. He tried to remember what it was like to be scared of someone with a gun in their hand, but it all seemed so ridiculous to him now. Still, she was just a kid, she didn't deserve that.

Plus, he wasn't through having fun with her yet. She'd been coming along so nicely, but, oh well, that was too damn bad.

The Joker tugged absently at the leather glove he was wearing; he'd put the pair on before he removed the gun from Charlie Oswald's dead hand and slipped it in his pocket. It was a shame that poor ol' Chuckie wouldn't be around to see the results of the little fuck-up he'd put in motion.

Maybe, wherever he was, he'd appreciate the irony of Rita Ryan being killed with his own gun after it was too late for him to enjoy it.

* * *

Jack drove cautiously around the apartment, looking for cop cars or other strange vehicles. He had arranged for his men to take care of Charlie's piece-of-shit car, and there was no sign of anyone or anything else out of place in the neighborhood or at the apartment, so he parked and headed upstairs.

He gently tapped on Rita's door, his hand on the gun in his pocket, just in case someone else was in there with her. He heard Rita's tiny voice on the other side of the door, saying "Who is it?"

"Just me, babe. Open up, will ya?"

The door opened a couple of inches, then, seeing Jack's handsome face and halo of blond curls, Rita threw it wide, and flung herself into his arms as soon as he stepped in.

"Oh, Jack, what's this all about?" she gasped tearfully. He could see she'd been crying, probably ever since he'd left. That was curious...why was she crying?

"Now, angel, don't be so upset. Everything's fine now, right? You didn't call the cops, did ya?" Rita pulled away so she could look him in the eye. He had a rare serious expression of concern.

"No, but we _should _have_._ God, what have you _done?_ Who _was_ he? Jack...who are _you?" _Rita's blue tear-filled eyes were huge, and she stared at him, the first layer of innocence having been peeled away, leaving her raw and tender. She desperately wanted to hear a logical explanation, but try as she might, she couldn't come up with one herself.

"Aw, babe...what kind of question is that? I'm Jack, remember? Just ol' Mr. J, same as always...." he said in a kind, soothing voice as he squeezed her to him, pressing kisses onto her tear-streaked face.

"You _killed_ a man...and you weren't even upset! It was like...like you do it all the _time!"_

"Yeah, well...." He bit his lip, burying his face in her neck, trying not to laugh. This was going to be fun....

"And, why did he call you 'Joker'? I don't understand _any _of this..." she wailed.

"I know. It's...complicated. Much too complicated for a cute little bunny like you to understand..." He held her closer as he suppressed a random giggle, brushing the top of her head comfortingly with his lips. Aw, damn. She was so...adorably dense...so easy to play....everything was getting so...so ridiculous....couldn't she see that? He felt himself becoming more and more detached...now, she was just some warm, soft thing that wouldn't stop squawking...needed her to be quiet...needed to...shut her up....

"But, I want to _know! _Jack...I...I _love_ you!" she murmured into his chest.

The words hit him hard, for some reason. They penetrated into some still-whole part of his brain, and stopped him short. It would have been a good time to pull the gun from his pocket, hold it up under her chin, and take her out before her mom got home, giving him enough time to grab what little incriminating evidence he had next door and get the hell out of there. But, somehow...he couldn't.

"Ah..._what_ did you say?" he asked, feeling a little bewildered.

"I said, 'I love you'," she repeated in a muffled voice, as he was pressing her head into his chest a little too hard for her to turn her head properly.

He released her and looked down at her like a predatory animal coming across a strange new sort of prey. He pushed her away, held her at arm's length and studied her critically.

"That's stupid," he finally announced. Rita blinked in surprise.

"Why? Why is my loving you stupid?" she demanded miserably.

"Because, kid...I'm...I'm the kind of guy who..." Images and colors were swirling around in his brain; he had to force himself to focus on what he was saying..."I'm the kind of guy who....who'll fuck you _over." _He licked his lips nervously. Suddenly, he wasn't having so much fun anymore.

"No, Jack, no, I know you'd never hurt me...."

"Hmm....Maybe I'm not being clear. Let me explain." The Joker's lips curled into a cruel sneer. He didn't want to play anymore, he just wanted to get this over with...."_ I rob banks._ I pull jewel heists, I _kill _people for money, and sometimes? I blow things up for _fun." _He held her firmly by her shoulders as she tried to wriggle away, not wanting to hear his devastating words.

"No!...No, that's _ridiculous_...you could never do any of those terrible things!" Rita was almost screaming, and she shook her head adamantly, still struggling to break his powerful grasp. He was now scaring her.

The Joker slipped one strong arm around her waist and held her in a tight embrace, then took her chin in the other gloved hand and forced her to look at him. Feeling helpless, she searched his face, looking for that twinkle in his eye, that tug at the corner of his scarred mouth, clues that would let her know he was just pulling her leg, razzing her, _joking_ with her...but they weren't there. Something big and sick and painful took hold of her heart.

"Rita, baby..." he intoned gently, "Charlie worked for me once. He was too stupid to keep--I should of killed him a long time ago...yeah, they call me the _Joker_. Funny, huh? Because, the fact is...I'm _not _a nice guy." He looked her square in the eye and smiled a demented smile. "Aaand...I'm _sorry." _Feeling better, he took his hand away from her face and pulled out the gun. He moved the hand holding her around the waist up to the back of her neck, immobilizing her, and pressed the cold barrel against her throat with the other.

Rita couldn't stop looking in his beautiful dark brown eyes, those eyes that had taken her captive the first moment she saw him. Now, they held no laughter, no teasing, just a stony dullness that frightened her almost more than the weapon in his hand. She thought of her mom...a kind of calm came over her. For some reason, she now felt no panic, just an of out-of-body stillness that allowed her to speak rationally. She no longer even felt like crying. Somehow, he'd slipped away from her...she had to reach him, she had to make him _see _her....

"Jack..." she said softly. "_Please..._don't do this...why would you do this? I don't understand...."

"Because, sweetie, you won't be able to keep your pretty little mouth shut. Hey, I've got big plans--I'm about to blow this town wide open--pretty soon, _everybody's _going to know who the Joker is--and I don't want _anybody _spilling the beans before I finish getting everything in place...so," he shrugged dismissively, "I don't have much choice. I gotta take ya out of the picture, see?" He had a mock-apologetic look on his face.

"I...I won't say anything...I promise. Jack...please. Look at me..." She spoke evenly, and he found himself relenting, gazing into her eyes where he saw something he'd never seen before in someone looking at him over the barrel of a gun, or otherwise, for that matter. He was used to all sorts of interesting emotions--anger, fear, disgust--but Rita's eyes held none of those. All he saw was love.

Something stirred inside him. He released her and dropped the gun to his side. He first nodded, then shook his head.

"I always knew those gorgeous peepers of yours would get me into trouble someday," he sighed resignedly.

The Joker raised the gun, swung it hard, and knocked her unconscious in one fluid, well-practiced motion.

* * *


	18. My Bet's On You, Kid

**A/N: Here we are, the last chapter. Please know I'm really sad to end this story! I've had the best time writing it, and I've loved corresponding with all of you who have reviewed, I feel like I have a lot of friends out there in cyber-land! Thank you to everyone who's been reading, and I hope this final chapter, like Batman, won't disappoint.**

**Seds**

*** * ***

Rita woke up in her own bed, her head throbbing and a sense of dread weighing on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She was alone, and she could hear nothing other than the usual night sounds of her bedroom. She swung her legs over the side and stood up shakily; feeling faint and her stomach empty, it occurred to her that she couldn't have forced down food even if she'd had any. The slender girl felt as though she'd been unconscious for a hundred years, but she determinedly made her way to her door and tried to pull it open; it wouldn't budge. She tried harder, and still no luck. Rita yanked on the knob with all the strength she could muster, but it was no use; with a sinking feeling, she realized Mr. J--_the Joker_--must have secured it somehow.

Trapped. The teen felt a surge of panic rising in her throat. It was clear that the man she would have willingly trusted with her life, with the lives of her loved ones, had had some kind of break with reality, or maybe he had been someone else all along. Her heart was breaking piece by piece, but she now understood that she couldn't succumb to her sorrow; she had to focus on survival. A fleeting thought--what could she use as a weapon?--was cut short when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

Muffled male voices told her there were more than one man in the apartment; then footsteps trod purposefully up to her room and stopped just outside her door. There was a scrabbling noise and then the sound of something heavy being moved. To her horror, the door quickly swung open and she gasped as she stared at the apparition before her.

A man with ghastly white face paint and long, sickly green hair stood before her. The black kohl that outlined his eyes made a hollow, skeletal impression, while the garish red lipstick emphasized the deep scarring that confirmed her dreadful realization--there was no question, the man was Mr. J. The heavy purple overcoat made his slight frame look broader and more imposing than usual, and the voice that came out of his mouth was in a higher-pitch and more nasal than his usual warm speaking voice.

"Well, hello, beautiful. Enjoy your little catnap?" he asked with a lop-sided smirk.

"Oh, God--what are you doing? Why...why are you _dressed_ like that?" she whispered, too shocked to remember to take a defensive stance.

"Oh, well, this is what I wear when I'm working. This is how Gotham is going to know me, and I thought you deserved a little preview...." He stepped forward in what Rita took to be a menacing posture.

"Please! Jack, don't hurt me...I swear, I won't tell anyone about Charlie, I won't tell them about _anything_ you did or said tonight...."

The Joker made a dismissive gesture.

"Yeah, I been thinking about all that. Listen kid, you tell 'em anything you want. There's no evidence to link me and Charlie, and by the time you get around to talking to the cops, I'll be long gone. It'll all be small potatoes in the big scheme of things anyway...."

"You're...you're not going to...?"

_"Kill _you? Naaah. All things considered, there's nothing you can do that'll put a crimp in my little plans, so you know, knock yourself out if you want. Or, not...it doesn't really matter anymore." He ran a leather-clad finger down her cheek, over her neck, and down between her breasts, making her shiver. She didn't trust him anymore, and the touch of the leather was cold, unyielding and totally unwelcome.

"Jack...don't. Please, go take that awful stuff off your face, take that dye out of your hair...please, _please_ be Jack again...." she pleaded.

"No, no, no, no. Listen, angel, in a lot of ways--this is who I really am. It's better you find that out now, ok? I know it doesn't make any sense. There's not much in this crazy world that does, and that's the joke. People spend their whole lives trying to play by the rules, and they don't realize until it's too late--there _aren't_ any...." he put his hands on her shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes, speaking in a soft, dream-like voice that almost lulled her into calmness.

"Jack--I love you. Please, we can get through this, we can get help for you...." she rasped desperately.

The Joker laughed appreciatively.

"Oh, baby, you really are adorable! _Love_...now, that's bullshit, but I can see that you BELIEVE it, and that's almost the same as...the same as being real. So, let me just tell ya something--if I could feel _anything_--for anyone?--it'd be you and those gorgeous baby blues of yours. You really got to me, kid, you threw me for a loop and NOBODY'S done that since...shit, since I was a dopey teenager. You know? And, I have to say, I kind of liked it...yeah. I kind of liked it...."

"Then, stop this! Stop talking like that, stop acting like this...whatever's wrong, we can face it together, we can work it out...." Rita ached for him to hear her, to believe her, to agree with her...but he just smiled ruefully at her.

"Naw, kid. It's way too late for that...ol' Charlie did me a favor. He reminded me of how dangerous it is to play games when there's serious work at hand. I needed that, I needed to get back on track, and you, my dear, are FAR too delectable a dish for me to be able to hang around with and still keep my mind on the subject. Sooo, I'm just gonna hit the road. Get down to business and all that...."

Rita felt hot tears well up in her eyes and begin sliding down her cheeks.

"You're going to _leave?" _she asked, disbelieving.

"Yeah...." he said gently, running a purple-gloved hand through her hair.

"Don't I mean _anything _to you?" she whispered.

He cocked his head from one side to the other, studying her curiously.

"_Mean_ anything to me? Well, sure, babe! Think about it--before, I really thought I oughta kill you...but I _couldn't. _That's how bad I've got it for ya...so, in a way...you mean more to me than...than just about anything."

"Then, how can you just go??" she sobbed.

"Rita, Rita, it's not about you...I've got things to do, don't you get it, sweetie? I can't stick around doing the love-sick school-boy routine with you anymore. It doesn't really suit me, and to be honest, it's dangerous for both of us. You'll be better off without me, loads better off...."

"No, no, please don't leave me...."

"Aw, sh-sh-sh, you'll be all right...." The Joker pulled her into his arms and held her for a long moment, amazed at how her small body shook when she cried. Then he released her and bent forward so his eyes were even with hers. "You've got a great future ahead of you, Miss Rita...you're smart, you're sweet, and you got a lot of fight in ya, besides being drop-dead gorgeous! Why, I bet..." His thought was interrupted when a rough-looking man stuck his head in the apartment and said, "Hey boss, that's everything--you ready to go?" The Joker waved his hand in a "just a minute" gesture.

"Who's _that?" _asked Rita, worriedly.

"A fine member of my growing team...hey, maybe you want to join us?" he asked teasingly. "I can show you how to load a gun, set a charge, drive an armored car...no? You sure? There's a place for a tiny thing like you, you could crawl into air conditioning ducts, squeeze into drain pipes--huh?" His dark eyes flashed merrily at her, and he was speaking in his old, familiar joking tone, but Rita didn't like anything he was saying.

"I'd go with you, Jack, I'd go anywhere with you, but not to be a criminal...please, just stay here and let's figure things out. We could...."

"Sorry, kid. It doesn't work like that. Now, like I was sayin'--you've got a lot of stuff to do, too. Like finish high school. Get yourself a scholarship, go to college and _be _somebody. Hell, maybe you'll end up being a psychiatrist and we'll end up together after all--" he leaned forward, winked slyly and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "_I'll be the one in the straight jacket...._And you can count on this--I won't forget ya...."

He kissed her, first on the lips, then on the forehead before he turned and began to shamble toward the front door.

She followed him, her voice broken as she asked one last time, "Jack...how can you just walk away? Please...don't go...what will I do...."

Jack paused, turning back to face her. He gave her an encouraging smile.

"Hey, you're gonna have a great life! There's a lot of crap going on in this world, but my bet's on you, kid--you're going to make it a better place."

"Jack, don't do this to me! I love you, I can't live without you..." Rita's voice was faltering.

"Aw, babe, believe me...you couldn't _live..._with me." Jack gave her a look of regret, then raised a gloved hand in farewell, slipped out the door and was gone.

* * *

Rita stood frozen for several minutes. She was numb, unable to believe anything that had happened over the last few hours. She glanced at a clock--dawn was about to break and her mother would soon be home. She wanted her mom. She wanted to put her head on her shoulder and just sob and sob and sob. Her mom would make it better. Her mom always made it better.

Devastated, Rita walked out of the apartment. She looked up one end of the hall and down the other. There was no one there, no sign of any disturbance...tentatively, she walked the several paces to Mr. J's door; she stood before it as she had so many times, her heart beating quickly, palms sweating, but this time for entirely different reasons. She put her hand on the door knob and it turned easily, the latch not caught, just like the first time she met Jack.

Rita slowly took a few steps forward, opening the door all the way. She took in the whole scene--there was nothing there. Not one stick of furniture, not one scrap of evidence that a man had lived there for months and changed her life forever. Not even a bit of trash left in the corners...she walked through the other rooms, and it was the same story. Nothing, no sign of a life lived behind those doors.

She was about to leave, when she saw a little package propped by the front door. It was wrapped in wrinkled brown paper and tied with a bright green ribbon. There was a card--actually, just a piece of heavy paper--with the words "Lovely Rita" written on it. Puzzled, she bent down and picked it up. It was a small rectangular box a little larger than a legal-size envelope. She examined it gingerly, turning it over and gently shaking it--the contents made no distinctive sound.

She untied the ribbon, unwrapped the paper and opened the box. Inside were two envelopes. She opened the thicker, heavier one first, and found a set of prints of the "cover girl" pictures Mr. J had taken of her the day she came over to show off her new wardrobe; she flipped through them, again amazed by how different she looked from her own self-image. That day seemed so long ago....

She set those down and then opened the other envelope. Inside were ten one hundred dollar bills and another folded piece of paper. Bewildered, she opened that and read:

"Hi kid,

This isn't much, but maybe it'll help you get started on your college career. Don't worry, the bills are real, no fakes.

You're a good kid, and a hell of a lot of fun. Don't let anyone give you any shit, don't forget any of the stuff I told you and don't be so serious all the time. If you miss me, just turn on the TV, I'll be getting a lot of air time before long.

By the way, say hello to your mom and tell her the car's all paid up as far as I'm concerned, so no more working nights, she should stay home with you. Oh, and tell Lynne she was right about me, it'll make her day.

See you in the funny papers,

J."

Rita carefully replaced everything in the box, gave one last glance around the empty room, and headed back to her apartment. She went into her bedroom and put the box and the camisole Jack had given her in the back of a drawer and covered them with her clothes. She straightened the covers on her bed, tidied her nightstand, and went into the kitchen. The window Charlie Oswald had used to gain entry to the apartment was open, and Rita closed and locked it. She began putting on a pot of coffee, when she heard a key in the front door lock. Gail briskly walked in and started when she saw her daughter in the kitchen.

"Rita! What in the world are you doing up so early? I figured you'd still be sawing logs at this hour...."

"Yeah...well, I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I guess I'm a little upset, Mom."

"Upset? What's wrong, baby?" Gail hastened to her daughter's side and put her arm around her.

"Mr. J moved out last night."

"He _did? _Just like that? Well, for heaven's sake, how come?"

"I...I don't know, really. Something about his...his work. Oh, and he said not to worry about paying any more on the car, he doesn't want any more money for it." Rita clasped her arms around herself and shivered. Gail noticed that her voice was weak, her eyes were red and that she looked a little pale.

"Really? Well, how do you like that, that was awfully nice of him...aw, sweetie, did you have a little crush on him?"

"I guess so. I...I really liked him, Mom. I'm going to miss him." Rita wasn't even thinking about the words she was saying, they just seemed to flow out naturally.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. I know it hurts now, but you'll get over him. He was a little old for you anyway, don't you think?" Gail asked with a gentle smile.

"Yeah...."

"Are you not feeling well?"

"Actually, no. My throat hurts, and so does my head. Do you think I could stay home from school today? I may be coming down with something...."

Gail appraised her daughter; she wasn't one to fake illness, and she certainly did look a bit under the weather.

"I think that's probably a good idea. Why don't you go on to bed and try to get some rest? I'm going to fix something to eat before I go to bed myself and I'll make you a plate. You can just heat it up when you wake up, ok?"

"All right. Thanks, Mom."

"No problem, sweetie." Gail turned to the refrigerator, when she heard her daughter's small voice.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm glad you're home."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

* * *

A few days later, Gail was chatting with Lynne and Rita as she sliced vegetables for their dinner. Lynne was spending the night, and Gail was glad for that. Her friendship meant a lot to her daughter. She was happy to see that Rita had seemed a little more cheerful that day, and she hoped the teen was on the road to recovery from her "heartbreak" over the handsome Mr. J. She had been moping about so miserably that Gail was beginning to wonder if she needed to talk to a counselor or something....

They were watching TV when the story of a daring big time bank robbery featuring men with clown masks came over the evening news report. One of the oddest things about it was the "Joker" playing card left at the scene, and the reporter made quite a big deal about that, speculating on what its significance could possibly be.

Gail and Lynne were still laughing over some anecdote from the older woman's day at the hospital when that news report came on; Gail thought it was odd that Rita stopped participating in the conversation and was suddenly glued to the set. But then she smiled.

It was good to see her taking an interest in current affairs. She probably picked up that habit from talking to Mr. J so much--Gail had noticed he seemed to follow the news pretty closely.

It was probably a good thing for her daughter that the rather mysterious man had moved away when he did, before the girl fell completely head over heels in love with him or some such nonsense, but at the same time, Gail was sorry that he had gone. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but it had been nice having a strong, dependable, level-headed man like Mr. J around, someone you could call on in a crisis, or just to help you carry heavy groceries up the stairs once in a while....

All in all, he'd been a very good neighbor.

* * *

As the days turned into weeks, the bank robberies continued, each time getting bolder, each time, the clown masks, the gag explosives, the "Joker" card...the police had no leads and the Commissioner was interviewed vowing to put a halt to this new-style criminal now known as "The Joker".

Rita flipped from channel to channel, trying to catch more of the brief security footage of the men in masks; she was always able to pick Mr. J out of the group by the way he held himself and by his ambling gait. She was glad that, so far, no one had been seriously hurt in any of the jobs; she hoped no one ever would be. As always, she wrestled with her conscience over whether or not to go to the police with what she knew. As always, she decided against it; she didn't know _anything_, really.

As the feature ended and the next began, Rita found herself hearing him joking with her, warm, teasing, and she remembered the way just the sound of his voice could make her knees weak and her pulse race. The image of him standing outside laughing, his wild blond curls illuminated by the sun, making her giddy when he greeted her with that smile....remembering the way it felt to lie in his arms, to kiss him, to touch those scars....He had changed her forever, and no matter how badly it had ended, she knew she would always love _Jack_, her Mr. J, and that somehow, even if _he_ didn't believe it, he had loved her, too, at least a little bit, at least for a little while....

Maybe she should have gone with him. Maybe _she _could have changed _him _if she just tried hard enough. Or, maybe...maybe she'd have ended up dead. Sometimes, when the hole in her heart felt like it would expand and expand until there was nothing left of her, she thought that sounded pretty good. But then, her mom would come home or Lynne would call, or a college flier would come in the mail, and she knew...she was going to be ok. Just like he said.

_"My bet's on you, kid...."_

Looking at a catalogue for State University at Gotham, Rita made a decision. Mr. J was right. She would make sure he won his bet.

**THE END.**

_PS: The quote, "My bet's on you, kid," came from an old Humphrey Bogart movie which I can't remember the name of to save my life. It's not "Casablanca". I just thought it sounded like something Mr. J would say on his way out. Let me know if you know the name of the movie...._

_UPDATE: Thank you to Glasg0wsmile for remembering the name of the Bogart movie, it's "Dead Reckoning"!_


End file.
